More Than A Number
by Javanyet
Summary: Chico and The Man star Freddie Prinze's May-December romance with his assistant Molly is a challenge on the best of days. But Freddie learns the hard way that age is more than a number when Molly suffers a shattering loss, and he is ill-equipped to deal with the aftermath. Rated M for some language and occasional love scenes. Chapters added as completed...
1. Fan Club Life

The audience was just leaving, the requisite number of young women hanging around Freddie's dressing room door. Molly excused herself to get by them, smiling inwardly at their sneers and glares, and knocked on the door. "Freddie? You almost ready to go?"

His voice was muffled by the closed door. "Just about, come on in." Not hearing him clearly, she opened the door a crack, and saw the back of a petite blonde. They were at opposite ends of the small room, no quick jumps apart, but still she was a little shaken.

"Oh, 'scuse me," she retreated in a hurry with a knot in her stomach.

"No, wait, c'mere!" he called after her. He reached through the door and pulled her back in, nodding to the girls outside. "Just a minute, ladies."

Once inside Freddie introduced the blonde as Ruth Watson, from Baltimore. President of the newest Freddie Prinze fan club.

"I was just giving her your name and the office number and address." He took Molly's arm and told Ruth, "This lady keeps me all together, no lie. You got a club, get in touch with her and she'll set you up."

Ruth shook Molly's hand, still looking star-struck at Freddie. "Hi nice to meet you. I'll be in touch."

"Did she get a photo, Freddie?" She just managed to keep the edge out of her voice.

"Yeah, it's in her notebook."

"Okay, Ruth, I look forward to hearing from you. Are you in LA for long?"

"Just a few more days."

"Well maybe you'd like to come by the office, and I can give you some start-up stuff in-hand, okay?"

"Sure!" She knew, obviously, that Molly's office was in Freddie's apartment. Freddie looked supremely uncomfortable.

"What about tomorrow, then," he told them, "I'll be taping here and won't be around to bother you."

"That'll work," Molly told him. Ruth looked disappointed; Freddie looked relieved.

"Okay, here's my card," Molly instructed. "How about, uh, one o'clock? Does that work?"

"Sure. Thanks." She was still staring at Freddie as she left.

As the door shut he gave Molly a monstrous hug. "Thank you thank you thank you. Jack brought her to the door, I swear he has it in for me…" She looked at him closely and figured he was telling the truth, he looked so relieved. But he caught the hesitation.

"What, you think I'm ordering in little girls? She's only about sixteen, for godsake. Man I got all the woman I can handle now! I'll take out an ad in Variety to say so."

"Th'hell you will. Look, I'll go in tomorrow and get all the stuff together for Ruth. Tonight I go my way ,and you go yours. We both need the sleep!"

* * *

She got to the office at eleven; Freddie had gone to the studio hours before. The fan club stuff was easy to assemble; it was all by the numbers. She didn't want to give the kid _too_ much stuff to carry but figured she'd be happy to have a pile of Freddie material to show off back home. Ruth seemed like a nice kid; she was embarrassed by her initial response. Freddie said he didn't want those little girls any more. Well if he'd wanted them so much for so long what the hell did she offer him that suddenly turned that off? It didn't matter. Whatever he told her, she believed. She could look in those sleepy brown eyes and believe the world was flat. Maybe he was right, she just worried too much.

Ruth arrived on the stroke of one, obviously hoping Freddie would still be there, but he'd left by ten o'clock. Molly took Ruth in to the office, answered a million questions about working with Freddie. She gave the girl the fan club materials she'd assembled.

"Molly, I wonder if I could ask you something."

"Go ahead."

"Well, we were gonna have a sort of a launch event for the Baltimore club chapter, a sort of get-together convention and Mr. Komack said we can show a couple episodes of Chico. What I was wondering, it would be _really_ great, if Freddie could come to the convention and maybe do a comedy thing or just questions and answers."

"Well, Freddie does do personal appearances. What's the date?"

Ruth told her; it was next month, about five weeks away. As it happened it was at the beginning of taping hiatus, and he had nothing scheduled for the four days it would take to get out there, participate, and come back home. "Well it looks doable. Now we don't charge for those fan club appearances because they promote the show and Freddie's career but we'd need to ask you to at least split travel and accommodations with Komack Productions. If you can cover it a hundred per cent that would be even better, but we understand you have some constraints. But fan club dues can cover a lot."

"Wow! That sounds great. Covering Freddie for travel isn't a problem, and somebody could put him up!"

"Well to get some details out of the way, I always travel with Freddie. I handle every detail of his appearances and itineraries so all he has to worry about is remembering to get dressed and what to say. And Freddie always stays in hotels, though offers of private accommodations are appreciated a hotel offers more privacy and he gets more rest that way. Just so you know, we usually share a suite so it's easier to communicate and keep on top of things."

Ruth looked a little suspicious. "You share a suite?"

"Sure. Two bedrooms. If there isn't a suite available, two connecting rooms. Don't look at me like that honey, we've been working together almost three years now. There are lots of things to keep together, and that's my job. Like I said, Freddie's job is to do his appearances and 'looook good.' But you can check out our necessaries in the contract."

"Contract?" She was looking more and more disappointed, that this wasn't going to be some freestyle visit.

"Don't let it get to you, Ruth. It's not that complicated, just a way to keep things professional and no surprises for anyone. It's just a list of what to expect, no lawyers or anything. I can give you a copy right now, it's really not that scary."

She pulled a personal appearance contract out of the file and went over it with Ruth. The kid admitted it wasn't a big deal, but was still a little put out that she wouldn't have Freddie at her house.

"Don't worry, he'll be very accessible once we're there. That's our part of the bargain. You give us a decent place to stay and some reasonable down time, and Freddie will give you all the charm and laughs you can handle, okay? We do it all the time."

"Okay. I'll bring this stuff back and go over it all with the secretary of the club."

"Ruth it sounds like a great time and that you're planning it well. If you need any help with ideas or arrangements give me a call because I've done it before."

She brightened a little. "Okay." She was casting eyes out the office door, wanting to see the rest of the apartment. Finally she lost some of the grown-up demeanor and reverted to the sixteen year old she was. "Do you think I could take a look at Freddie's room?"

Molly shook her head firmly, but with a sympathetic smile. "Sorry, Ruth, off limits. It's a pigsty anyway, probably looks like your brother's room, if you have a brother." Ruth smiled widely.

"Yeah I do. And he's a pig!"

"Okay Ruth, I hate to hurry you but I have a load of work to do. So I'll wait to hear from you, and for the time being will pencil the dates into Freddie's calendar. How about you call me a few days after you get back to Baltimore?" Ruth agreed. As Molly showed her to the door, by coincidence Freddie was coming in. Ruth got that dreamy star struck look again.

"Well ladies," Freddie smiled his most charming smile, "have you gotten everything sorted out?"

"Yeah," Ruth told him. "Molly gave me lots of stuff and we talked about your appearance at the fan club kickoff in Baltimore." His eyebrows went up.

"Oh you did, did you?"

Ruth missed the ironic tone in his voice.

"Yes, Freddie, a promotional appearance. I gave Ruth a copy of the standard contract so she and her officers can go over it. Don't worry, your schedule is clear for the dates and I'll handle everything."

"As always. Well Ruth, have a pleasant trip back to Baltimore." He kissed her cheek and retreated to the office. Ruth looked about ready to faint, so Molly steered her out the door.

"Talk to you soon, Ruth." She closed the door after the girl walked out.

"Molly!" Freddie called from the office, "we need to talk!"

She strolled back into the office. "I looked at the calendar. Those dates are right at the beginning of hiatus."

"Well can we at least request a Jacuzzi?"

"Smartass. How about mirrors on the ceiling while we're at it?"

"Sure. Think a bunch of teenagers can afford that?"


	2. And Carlito Makes Three

Five weeks later they were on the flight to Baltimore. It had been a busy previous two weeks cramming the last of the rehearsals and tapings in, and episode meetings for after hiatus. Jimmy and Freddie's agent wanted statements and paperwork for his appearances coming up for the next six months. Freddie's head nearly exploded with the number of proposals he had to read. For all the scripts and treatments he saw, none of them was amounting to anything. Most nights he stayed at his apartment after Molly left for home.

 _"I miss you, Besita," he told her one night as she gathered her stuff to take home._

 _(Freddie's pet names for Molly, Besita and Bonita, were Spanish for "pretty" and "little kiss", respectively. Her nickname for him, Carlito, was a play on his middle name Karl.)_

 _"I miss you too. We'll see each other in Baltimore. The club managed to get us a two bedroom suite at the Hilton. Those kids worked like dogs to raise the money even though I said the studio would split it. They are very self sufficient, these kids. But anyway, they agreed to the itinerary and part of that is hands-off between ten at night and noon next day."_

 _"Well I hope that doesn't mean_ your _hands,_ querida _." He took a step toward her but she backed off. God, she'd been missing him at night._

 _"All we gotta worry about is fooling housekeeping."_

The club couldn't afford first class seats so Jimmy's office picked up the tab for the flight, impressed that the kids could cover the hotel stay on their own. Molly felt terribly guilty now; Freddie was so wasted from the past few weeks and had only had three days to himself before this trip. She had beaten herself into the ground as well but he seemed to be taking it harder. They hadn't spent a night together in weeks. There had been a lot of press coverage of the end of the season, renewal of the series, and other such trade concerns.

The stewardess came by to take drink orders and Molly quietly waved her away. She was going over the itinerary again, and Freddie was passed out next to her. "He looks like an angel," the stewardess whispered.

"Yeah," Molly replied, "and this angel needs a serious rest. When we're through in Baltimore he gets the next two weeks _off_." When the woman had moved on Molly surreptitiously smoothed the hair away from his forehead. "Just like an angel," she told him though she knew he couldn't hear. "Two weeks off, I promise."

She woke him as they were making their approach to the airport. He looked around groggily.

"Are we there yet?"

Molly giggled. "You sound about ten years old."

"Well I feel ten years _older_."

"Hang on, Carlito. Four more days and it's two weeks off, I swear to god. I put every request and mailing on hold. I turn your agent's mail right back on him, and is he pissed off. But my job is holding you together and that includes making sure you are punched out when appropriate."

He looked at her with those puppy-dog eyes. "Please don't punch me out," he implored, "I promise I'll be good." She wanted so badly to kiss him her stomach hurt.

"Hang on," she said, "I promise you time off."

He had begged her for an additional day at home, but she told him he'd thank her when they arrived a day early and he had overnight to gather himself before appearing at the convention. As they waited for their luggage he was thanking her already.

"I am gonna crash so hard it's gonna leave a crater," he told her. After they gathered their stuff they trudged to the pickup area. where they saw Ruth.

"Hi!" Ruth greeted them brightly. "We have a limo here to get you guys to the hotel. Just follow me."

Molly could have kissed her. She didn't remember that they were going to be met, and thought she'd have to arrange for ground transportation. Ruth saw them through registration at the hotel, and went up to their suite with them.

"I hope this is okay. Two bedrooms, an office area in the living room, even a kitchenette. and we supplied coffee and a coffeemaker."

"Got a Jacuzzi?" Freddie asked casually.

"Uhm, no, no Jacuzzi," Ruth told him.

"Don't worry about it, Ruth, he's just spoiled on the road." She glared at him.

"Okay, you guys settle in. There'll be somebody to pick you up at eleven tomorrow."

"What time is it now? Here, I mean."

"Eight-thirty. Nobody will call or bother you, I promise."

Molly walked Ruth to the door as Freddie checked out the rooms. "I want this bedroom!" he declared. "Better view!"

Molly shook her head sadly. No manners.

"Thank you Ruth, this is just great. ISN'T IT, FREDDIE?"

He trotted to the door. "Thanks very much, Ruth. This is real swank. Not like the dumps _she_ usually books us into."

Ruth looked like she didn't know if he was kidding or not.

"Don't forget he is a comic as well as a TV star," Molly instructed. "The rule is when in doubt, _never_ take him seriously."

Ruth's smile returned. "Okay, you're welcome Freddie. We'll see you guys tomorrow." She left, and Freddie slammed and double-locked the door.

"Alone at last," he growled and seized Molly in his arms, devouring her with kisses. She didn't put up a fight. When he let her up for air she asked "What happened to the crater crash, huh?"

"I know a better way to leave a crater."

They were recovering from make-up (as in make up for lost time) sex when Molly suddenly remembered their pickup in the morning. "Okay, record this in that brain. We gotta get up at about quarter to ten, because somebody from the fan club will be here to get us at eleven. Okay?"

"I thought the contract said no bothering before noon." He managed to talk around her fingers, which he continued to suck.

"Well I changed it to no _work_ before noon."

"Well shit, getting picked up is serious work. Gotta be nice and everything."

"It ain't that hard for you to be nice, Carlito. Just turn on the million watt smile and charm them right outta their sneakers." Before he could wind up, she added, "and don't bother to pout. The deal is done."

"I'm just a piece of meat, aren't I?"

"Well for the next four days, yeah. Although between ten at night and eleven in the morning, you are _my_ piece of meat!" she snickered until he bit her pinkie. "Ow! Cannibal!"

"Let's not start _that_ again, I don't have the energy." He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her as close as he could. She loved the way he did that at night, no matter how they were lying together. He didn't just hold her, he _cuddled_ her, stroking and petting and squeezing her tight. "Come on, do that thing I love, so we can go to sleep."

She wanted to tease him but decided he was right, they needed to get some sleep before show time. She snuggled her face into the side of his neck, kissing in little circles. He sighed, contented, and they both fell headlong into an exhausted sleep.

* * *

She checked the clock. Eight-thirty. Plenty of time before they had to get up, she thought lazily. She was lying pressed against his side, stomach-to-hip, her face on his shoulder, arm around his waist. His face was turned away from her. She couldn't resist. Moving up a little, she planted little kisses on his neck, under his jaw, down his throat, and back to his shoulder. She swore he was still asleep, but he gave a half-sigh, half-groan, and moved his head back a little more. "Hmm you love that," she whispered against his skin. She opened her mouth and ran her tongue along his skin, smooth near his shoulders and more scratchy closer to his jaw. His head moved a little more, neck stretching. She smiled. What a pretty toy.

"You're a pretty toy, you know that?"

"Well you sure like to play with me, don't you? Not that I _mind_ ," Freddie groaned, still not quite awake, but awake enough to make love again, even at that ungodly hour.

"Now how are we gonna fool housekeeping with you doing this to me every morning?" he wanted to know afterward.

"Who says it's gonna be every morning?" She bounced out of bed and headed for the shower, leaving him to recover. By the time she came out and had gotten dressed he was still lying in bed, arms crossed behind his head, watching her every move. "What?" she asked him.

"I was just wondering!" he mused.

"Wondering? about what?"

"About why I _waited_ so long before making my move. To think I coulda had this a year ago!"

"You couldn't. It wasn't time yet. So come on, Carlito, grab a shower and let's get going." He got up reluctantly and put on his robe. "But wouldn't it be a kick for me _not_ to take a shower, you know, go through the day with all those little girls not knowing I was all sweaty from you within a few feet of _them_?"

Molly made a face. "Just get a shower, Kinky Boy."

As he disappeared she shook her head and took a last glance at the itinerary as she made some coffee. By the time she heard the shower cut off it was almost ten-thirty. She looked up from her papers when she heard his bedroom door open.

"So Besita, am I 'looking goooood?'" He struck a pose in the doorway, one hand hooked in his belt, hip shot, the other hand leaning on the door jamb. Her jaw dropped. He was head-to-toe in Chico attire, faded denim and black boots. Fantasy-tight blue jeans, jean shirt open to _there_ , gold chain and medallion.

"Jeeesus, Freddie, you're gonna get us arrested!" He sashayed into the living room, shaking his ass. "Don't mind my asking," she said, still in shock, "but how do you _breathe_ in those?" She couldn't imagine wearing pants that tight. How would he sit down?

"I'll be fine," he told her, "as long as I don't get _turned on._ " He gave her a meaningful look.

"Honey if you get turned on in _those_ you are gonna be a soprano for life. God, Freddie, you look good enough to eat. Is that fair for these kids?"

"Those 'kids' expect an eyeful. and I might as well have something to distract them with if I have trouble with the questions and all. Now c'mere, you, and gimme a kiss before you go all business on me."

"Too late. I'm all business already, and you should be too."

He opened his arms, and shot her his brightest smile. "Come _on_ , Besita, just a _besita_ , okay?"

She couldn't stop herself. "You are _so_ unfair you bastard." She went to him, wrapped her arms around his neck, and stood on tiptoe to kiss him. Immediately he had one hand wound in her hair, the other gripping her ass and grinding her against him.

"Come on, Molly," he purred, "we got time for a quickie, huh?" She wrestled away from him and jumped back.

"I don't _do_ quickies!" She threw her hands in the air and turned away to load her briefcase. "Well that's what I get for hooking up with a twenty-something... hormones, hormones!"

He threw himself on the sofa. "Don't _start_ with that 'kid' shit, I'm getting sick of it. You act like it's all I'm about. You know that's not true."

"Then cool off, I gotta get my head into the day."

"Shit. We haven't had time together in weeks. I'm just trying to catch up. _Sorry_ if I'm bothering you!" He was working on a major sulk.

"Look, hot stuff, I miss you too. and we did enough 'catching up' last night to cripple us both, with a bonus just a little while ago. But we've known how it is all along, right? Business is business and we gotta be careful, right? So suck that lower lip back in and deal with it. This group is expecting Freddie and me smiling and friendly. We'll be through by nine o'clock and then we can do what we want."

"I'm sick of Freddie's house, and Chico's place, and all your goddamn rules, you know that?" The edge in his voice was unmistakable.

"Yeah well you better get _un_ -sick, because if I don't fly with Freddie we are both out of a job. For godsake, Carlito, will you give me a _break_? I gotta juggle Freddie, Chico, _and_ you and keep your lives in order. All 'Freddie' has to do here is show up and smile and charm some teenagers. It's a pain in the ass but it's a living. I'm _sorry_ this is cutting into your vacation, okay? I'm sorry. I tried not to do it this way but this is the way it is. Three more days and we're on our own, okay? Can you hang on until then?" He looked like a petulant teenager.

"Okay. Fine. I can deal with 'Freddie' and Chico a couple days more. I know you're right, I knew what I was getting into. Gimme one more kiss, okay? I promise to behave." She leaned down and smooched him lightly and as promised he didn't grab or grope her. But she was still pissed off, and grabbed her briefcase as she heard the knock at the door.

"Good morning, Ruth!" she greeted the young woman as she swung open the door. Freddie rose and beamed a smile. "Let's get this going," he announced and followed them out the door. He reached a hand to Molly's shoulder but she shook it off.

* * *

It really wasn't all that hard for him to turn on the Freddie charm. He was an actor, after all, and as always once he got into it he started to relax and have a good time. His insecurity craved the attention he was getting, even from teenagers. Or _especially_ from them, since he didn't seem to have the same problem believing their praise as he did with that of adults. The convention started with two back-to-back episodes of Chico that had been sent out by Jimmy's office. Molly and Freddie sat in the front row to the right of the stage, chastely separated by a theatre seat, but the first video had barely gotten started when Molly noticed Freddie's hand lying palm up on her briefcase between them, fingers wiggling to beckon hers. He was trying to make up, to improve her mood. Well shit, she got sick of this too and he acted like she orchestrated these things just to annoy him. Blame his agent, for christsake. The fingers curled, _c'mere_ , they said. Oh fuck it, if she didn't let him make up he'd be at her in code all day and she didn't want him distracted like that. Discreetly she leaned against the armrest and slipped her hand into his. He stroked her palm and the backs of her fingers, and finally she twined her fingers with his and surrounded his thumb; they stroked and traced and squeezed each other until it seemed their hands were making love between them. Freddie stared straight ahead at the screen as did Molly, laughing at all the right places. Freddie didn't laugh as much because he was watching himself, hypercritical as always.

"Loosen up, will you?" Molly leaned over and whispered.

"If you get too close I can't answer for myself here in the dark," he replied archly and she shushed him in a panic, looking to see if anyone had heard. " _Now_ who needs to loosen up, huh?" he teased.

The lights came up eventually and Molly took her hand back just in the nick of time. Ruth introduced Freddie in true fan-club fashion, a little breathless and less businesslike than she'd been earlier. When Freddie bounded onto the stage Molly swore those painted-on jeans would split from front to back. There was applause but shrieks and wolf whistles too. Damn, these kids weren't as kid-like as she'd thought. When the "woo-hoo's" died down Freddie went into the routine he'd worked up for such events. Part was his stand-up act, part was dedicated to promoting the show. He'd decided to weave that in and out with questions and answers, with some stock stand-up replies to a lot of the questions. He was on a roll, and the fans were loving it. He didn't need her for another half hour, so she snuck out and around to the green room, which was laid out in absolutely luxurious fashion. Well it was good for this convention center's rep to have Freddie there, no matter what the reason.

Molly wasn't happy with their earlier argument, hand-holding notwithstanding. Shit, she could feel the back of her neck tightening up. She went into Freddie's bag and grabbed some aspirin, then settled on a sofa with her head laid back to try to reduce the tension, and it gradually subsided. After a while there was more applause and wolf whistles, woo-hoo, and the like, and Ruth led Freddie back to the green room. There was a half hour break, then autographs in one of the function rooms which was set up with Chico memorabilia and merchandising. Freddie was pumped. He always was once he got into these things, for all his whining beforehand. He caught sight of her before she could get up, and her smile matched his.

"Getting more work done?" he asked.

"Just making a list."

"And checking it twice. Or three times."

"Is there anything I can get you?" Ruth asked her. For once she was focused on Molly and not Freddie.

"No thanks. I know where everything is. Whatta setup!" Satisfied things were under control, Ruth went to the door to keep unauthorized people away.

"I'm sorry I was such a shit this morning," Freddie told Molly sotto voce. "You work like a kennel full of dogs and all I do is bitch. I'm sorry. Why don't you take it easy, Molly. We won't need you for a while. She's got all those pictures and stuff and I can sign my name on my own."

"You don't need me?" she whined.

"Just for the next hour or so," he assured her with a grin. He checked to make sure Ruth wasn't looking. She was engaged in an animated conversation with two girls at the door. Sure nobody would see, he leaned over and quickly kissed the side of Molly's head. "Later, _querida_."

"Later, Freddie." She didn't dare call him "Carlito" in public.

"Okay Ruthie, lead on," Freddie draped an arm around Ruth's shoulders. Molly smiled and shook her head. What might this kid have in her diary tonight, she thought.

Forty-five minutes later they were back in the green room. It seemed only a minute to Molly, who had been adding lists to her lists.

"All done?" he asked. She nodded, and he dragged her into his sweet brown eyes. "You sure?" "Yeah I'm sure. Done, Car, uh, Freddie."

Ruth hadn't noticed the slip. He flopped back against the cushions. "Well Ruthie the _slave driver_ ," Ruth blushed a little, "tells me we got two hours free while they do a dinner thing and then a session about how to start a fan club. I _told_ her that all you need is someone _spectacular_ to worship, but I don't think she believes me." He gave Ruth his mischievous smile and Molly thought the poor kid was going to melt right there on the floor. She knew the feeling. "But guess what, boss? There is a party tonight at a club here in town! You won't get none of that bourbon you love to swill, but I told her you are some kind of dancer once you get rolling."

"He's lying, Ruth. I don't swill bourbon." She elbowed him.

"But you like to dance?"

"Well a little. Not all that well."

"Well, we have a live band," Ruth told her. "I'm told they can play anything."

Giving up, Molly laughed out loud. "Sure, Ruth, why not?"

She turned to Freddie. "You sure you wanna go? No beers with your pizza!"

He shrugged. "It won't kill me. Or so you tell me."

They had a few hours to return to the hotel and grab some downtime. "I'll come pick you guys up about seven, okay?" Ruth asked Molly as Freddie was chatting outside with some fans. He really did eat this up once he relaxed.

"Sure Ruth, thanks. It sounds like fun, but don't expect me to be any party animal."

Ruth laughed. "That's okay. We're an easy crowd. and Freddie 'warmed us up' so we'll be into entertaining ourselves." She paused, then continued "Look why don't you bring Carlito?"

Molly almost swallowed her tongue. "Carlito? Where did you hear about him?" She was playing out a dozen disastrous scenarios. She thought this kid was playing with her. How could she shut her up?

"Well, I have to confess I arrived a little early this morning. I heard you arguing with somebody you called 'Carlito', he sounded upset because you couldn't spend time together."

"Uh, exactly how early did you arrive?"

Ruth blushed. "Only a minute, I swear. I don't spy on people. But there's no reason for your boyfriend to stay locked up in the hotel all night, why don't you bring him to the party? He might have a good time and I'll bet he loves to dance with you." She was so earnestly accommodating Molly almost felt guilty as she prepared to lie through her teeth.

"Carlito, well, uh, see Carlito is a little funny about me working with Freddie. See, he's not in the business so to speak, and he doesn't want to get his name or face attached to the work I do. He stays away from 'Freddie stuff' if you know what I mean. In fact I'm really thinking it was a bad idea to bring him along, but it was the beginning of his vacation and I figured we'd have a little chance to get together in the evening. It isn't working out like that I'm afraid." She was babbling, and shut up before she screwed up big.

"Well okay, but you know Freddie can come to the party by himself!"

"No, when I'm on the road with him, he comes first. Hey, I gotta make sure he gets back in time to get up and out tomorrow, you know? It doesn't sound very pretty but I'm more or less his babysitter when we're on the road. Don't tell him I told you that, he's a little sensitive about it. But thanks, I really appreciate your thinking of me but I think Carlito would be better off if we left him in the suite. There's a little friction between him and Freddie so let's not mention this to him, okay? Thanks though, really."

"Well okay. If Freddie's ready we can take you back now."

They walked out the door and pried Freddie away from the gaggle of attractive teenagers he was charming. She returned the glares with a sweet smile. "Freddie's gotta get a little rest, ladies, so he'll be ready for you tomorrow. Maybe we'll see you at the party."

"Freddie promised me a dance," a tall brunette informed her. She looked about seventeen, going on thirty.

"Well he is a man of his word, aren't you Freddie?" He nodded and smiled as she took his arm and dragged him away. Ruth was several paces ahead. "Do you _think_ you can take it easy with the gigolo routine?"

"Whaddaya mean? You said I gotta be friendly."

"Well there's friendly, and then there's... Freddie. You know?"

He draped a "friendly" arm around her shoulders. "Whatever you say, boss."

* * *

When they got back to the suite and took their leave of Ruth, Molly threw herself on the sofa with a look of profound relief.

"What's with you?" Freddie wanted to know.

"She knows about Carlito. Ruth, I mean."

He was stunned. _"What_? How the hell does she know?"

"Well she told me she got here a little early this morning and overheard our argument."

Freddie began pacing like a caged animal. "Oh shit, oh shit. There is no way to shut up a sixteen year old, they cannot be bought. Oh, _shit_."

But Molly started to laugh, harder and harder, until she was gasping and her eyes were running with tears. Freddie looked at her like she was completely psycho.

"You don't get it, you don't get it," she howled. "She thinks I have a boyfriend named 'Carlito'."

"You _do_. That's the problem!"

"She thinks I brought him here with me."

"You _did_ , and we are screwed if it gets out."

She got to her feet and grabbed Freddie's hand, doubled over with laughter. "What are you _laughing_ at for christsake? We are _screwed_!"

She fought mightily to pull herself together. "No, no. You don't get it. Your little Ruthie thinks there are three people staying in this suite... you, me, and _Carlito_."

His eyes were as big as hubcaps. "Huh? She heard us arguing and she thought you were talking to a real live boyfriend named Carlito, who isn't me? She didn't match up the voices or anything?"

She nodded, breathless. "Well you do sound a little different when you're dealing with the public, honestly. But she told me I should bring him to the party tonight so he didn't have to hang out here alone all night, since he sounds pissed off that we can't spend more time together."

Freddie struck a sexpot pose. "Well he _is_ pretty hot. It's a shame to waste him."


	3. Called Home

The party finished at midnight. Molly had gotten in her share of dancing, even getting in one or two with Freddie, with Ruth's encouragement, "What's the point of working with Freddie Prinze if you can't dance with him?" _Oh if you only knew,_ Molly thought to herself.

Everyone said goodnight and Freddie and Molly said their thank-you's.

"I'm sorry Carlito couldn't come," Ruth told them earnestly.

"That's okay," Freddie told her with a smile, "Carlito doesn't like crowds." Over Ruth's objections he and Molly caught a cab back to the hotel. The cabdriver recognized Freddie, of course, but didn't insist on the Chico persona.

"You do a good show," he said, "real people, real working stiffs. People like me appreciate that." Freddie thanked the driver and Molly hoped he believed him, at least a little. The driver refused payment, but Freddie wrote him a note that would allow him backstage at the studio if he were ever in L.A.

When they got upstairs to the suite Molly turned and announced, "See I told you it would be okay. You had a good time today, admit it."

"Oh all right, yeah. You know me too well, don't you? If you ever leave I'll have to put a contract out."

Molly went into her room and changed into an royal blue silk nightgown. Freddie whistled when he appeared in the door. "That color looks beautiful on you. Mind if I give you a big hug?"

She smiled. "Hugs are always allowed."

He stepped up and lifted her off the floor. "Sorry I was such a pain in the ass."

"Apology accepted. Now put me down so I can get some sleep."

He followed her into bed after he got undressed. "Mmm this feels nice," he told her as he pulled her close. "Warm silk, warm skin. and you smell so good." He kissed her shoulder.

"I really am tired..."

"That's okay, Besita. I'm not horny _all_ the time." He cuddled her against him in the way that she loved, and she rested her face in his neck the way that he loved.

"You know Carlito," Molly murmured sleepily, "I think Freddie is missing out!"

Freddie laughed and shot back, "Let him sleep in his own room."

* * *

Midway through the next day's events Ruth came to Molly saying she had a phone call from L.A. "Ah, Jimmy checking up, she thought. But when she got the phone it was Joey Attardo, one of the bartenders from the Blue Parrot. He sounded like shit.

"Joey, what's up? You know this is a working weekend."

"Yeah, but I need to tell you, I need to," Joey stuttered, and then he broke into tears.

"What, Joey, what's going on?"

"Wendy," he said unsteadily, "a car accident. Some drunk broadsided her. Broad daylight."

The blood rushed from Molly's head, and she had to sit down on the floor. "And!?"

"And they don't know. Internal injuries, head injuries, it looks really bad. I figured you needed to know. Komack gave me the number. Can you come back home?"

She didn't even think before answering. "I'll be on the next plane."

"But your work?"

"Fuck work. I'll be there. I'll call you. What hospital?"

"Good Samaritan."

"Fine. I'll be there." Molly tracked down Ruth in a conference room. "Honey I have to go back to L.A. Now I know you're just sixteen but I wanna ask you to do a forty-year old's job, okay?"

Ruth nodded uncertainly.

"Okay, now there's no need for Freddie to leave with me. But I need someone to keep track of the itinerary, which is yours so it shouldn't be a problem. I want to ask you to make sure he gets going on time, make sure he stays on track. Can you do that?"

"Well I think so."

"Okay. Now I know your conference ends tonight but Freddie has a talk show appearance at WB"L tomorrow. I could cancel it from L" but if you could get him there, and then get him to the airport, it would make things easier. Can you do that?"

She nodded firmly. "Sure. Don't worry, Molly, I'll take care of it. Is everything okay?"

"No it's not."

"What about Carlito?" Ruth asked seriously.

"Carlito is on his own."

* * *

Molly had Ruth pull Freddie out of his meet-and-greet session to meet her in the back of the hall.

"What's up?"

"I gotta go home. Wendy's been in an accident. A bad one. They don't know..." she choked on the words..."they don't know if she's gonna be okay. I gotta go, Freddie, she's my best friend." He didn't question it. "Ruth and her people will take care of things here, she's gonna get you to that TV appearance tomorrow and get your ass on the plane."

"Are you going back to get your stuff?"

"No, today is come-as-you-are. Pack up my stuff and bring it with you, okay? I'll call you at the hotel tomorrow if I can. You know where the spare key to my place is, top right drawer of my desk. You can wait for me there if you want."

"Where is she?"

"Good Samaritan. But don't come there, you can't." She added urgently, "We don't need a mob scene. Okay? Promise me."

"Okay, I promise. I'll be at your place. But are you gonna be okay?"

"I don't know… I just have to go. I'll call you if I can."

She wanted more than anything for him to hold her and tell her it would be okay, but there were too many people around. He picked up her hand and kissed it. "I'll talk to you later. _Vaya con dios, querida_." She left him with a desperate look and raced to the place where Ruth said the car would be waiting.

* * *

Molly explained at the airport the nature of the emergency, and flashed her NBC, Komack and Chico cards. They got her on the next flight out. For uncounted hours she stared fixedly out the window, wishing she knew how to pray, wishing she believed in something other than the real world. She grabbed a cab to the hospital from LAX. Joey was in the waiting room of intensive care.

"What?" she asked him.

"They still don't know. She was in surgery for seven hours. They think they fixed most of the internal stuff but her head injury is scary. They have to make sure her brain doesn't swell."

"Shit, oh shit. Can I see her?"

He shook his head. "Family only."

"She doesn't _have_ any family. _I'm_ her only family."

"I know. But they won't budge."

"We'll see about that."

She marched to the nurse's desk. "My name is Molly O'Rourke and I work for Komack Productions. We produce Chico and the Man, Sanford and Son, and Welcome Back Kotter. My boss will be totally displeased that I left Freddie Prinze on his own at a conference in Baltimore to fly all the way back to L.A. and be told I cannot see my best friend Wendy Maginty. My _best_ friend."

"Look, Miss O'Rourke," the nurse told her, "I sympathize but I can't do it."

"What will it take? Autographs? Backstage pass? I am _begging_ you to let me see my best friend who might not outlive your damn rules." She was in a panic. "God, _please_ let me see her, I won't tell anyone."

Molly's agitation seemed to get to the nurse. "Okay, but just for a couple of minutes. She has been fading in and out, so even if she does seem awake she may not focus." Molly nodded readily to all of this and followed the nurse into the secluded room.

Wendy was swathed in bandages and bristling with tubes. Half her head was wrapped in gauze, covering most of her beautiful face. Molly stood at the bedside, reached for her hand.

"Wen? Wen, I came right away. Can you believe I left Carlito in the care of a sixteen year old fan club president? She seems okay though, and Freddie was pretty upset when I told him about you. You scare him, you know." She bent to press Wendy's hand to her cheek. "Wen, you can't do this to me. Yeah, once again it's all about me isn't it? Wendy, Freddie isn't strong enough to hold me up if I lose you, he's too young to understand what it means. I need you, we've always been there for each other. You can't walk on me, you selfish bitch. Drunk driver, big deal. You're better than that." Her friend moaned and the one visible eye opened. There was no flicker of recognition. "Wendy if you know who I am, squeeze my hand, okay?" Nothing. Molly was sure she heard and understood her, but there was no recognition at all. The nurse stepped forward. "Miss O'Rourke, please. I'm risking my job here. We have your phone number and will keep you informed." She let the nurse lead her out of the room.

Molly spent the that night and most of the next day in the waiting room, not permitted to see Wendy again. Her vital signs were improving, she was told, but brain function was still a question mark. She managed to remember to call Freddie at the hotel before he left for the TV interview.

* * *

"Freddie? It's me."

 _"Where are you?''_

"At Good Samaritan. She's alive, but not much more."

 _"Have you gone home at all?"_

"Hell no. I wouldn't have slept if I did. I'm just… waiting. For one thing or another."

 _"Why don't we cancel the interview and I'll come home early."_

"A couple hours early? No. Do what we planned, and come back, and meet me at my place. I'll be home sometime tonight, I swear."

* * *

Endless hours later Joey came back. "Molly, honey, you gotta go home for a while. You're not helping Wendy by making yourself sick, and what happens will happen whether or not you're here. You got somebody waiting for you."

"She told you about Freddie and me?"

"Yeah. After that fight at the bar she told me. You think I'm gonna call the press or something? Wendy said that Mr. TV Star treats you right, that you love him and he seems to love you. She thinks he's pretty okay, and is happy you found someone like that no matter how young he is. Go home, let him take care of you for a while. I'll call if there's any change." He kissed her goodbye and put her in a cab.

* * *

It was late by the time Molly got home; the place looked unfamiliar to her. She rode the elevator up in a daze. She couldn't remember when she last slept; everything felt like she was seeing it through some drug induced haze. She went in and locked the door behind her. Coffee. She smelled coffee. Who had made coffee, she wondered. Then she saw Freddie, dozing in the big armchair in the living room. Her empty luggage was stacked in a corner. He must have unpacked for her. She walked quietly but he jumped from sleep as if shot from a cannon. He didn't say anything, just stood and looked at her with those bottomless liquid brown eyes.

"She's still alive," she told him dully. "They fixed most of the broken stuff inside but her head, her head is messed up bad." She sat on the sofa and he sat down next to her. He listened, as he always did. "Have you ever had a best friend?" she asked him.

"When I was a kid in New York, in school."

"You know how you meet someone, and in no time you decide they were a part of you that had been missing, but you didn't know it until they were there? That's what I mean." She was staring ahead into space, and didn't see the expression on his face, that he was hearing her describe what she meant to him.

"I know exactly what you mean. How long have you and Wendy been together?"

"Twenty-two years. We've been through every possible thing, good and bad, for twenty-two years." He blinked, and looked away. "I know. It's almost as long as you've been alive. But I know you know what I mean. You always know."

"Did you see her?"

"Yeah. She even woke up a little." Molly took a breath. "But she didn't know me. Not at all." She drew a deeper breath and sighed. "How can you not know someone after twenty-two years?" She knew the question didn't make sense. She dropped her face into her hands, not crying, but completely spent and empty. She was so sad, not hysterical or desperate, but so sad she felt empty inside. Then his arms were around her, long slim hands were stroking her hair and back. "Freddie, what am I gonna do?"

"You're gonna hold on, Besita, and it's gonna be all right. I'm telling you it's gonna be all right."

"Don't tell me unless it's true, because you know I'll believe you."

He turned her face so she'd look at him. She fell into his deep honest eyes. "It'll be all right, no matter what happens. You'll be all right." After a few minutes he asked her, "Did you come here at all? Did you sleep at all since you came back? Have you eaten?"

Practical stuff. She kept his life in order but he was on top of the practical stuff in hers. "No I didn't come back. I tried to eat at the hospital, but I puked. I can't sleep, Carlito, I can't sleep because when I wake up she might be gone."

As gently as he could, he told her, "She might be gone anyway. But she might stay too. Sleeping won't change that."

"That's what Joey said." She sat up and squirmed inside her clothes. "I need a shower."

"I'll help you." No question. He followed her into the bathroom, undressed them both and helped her step into the shower. The hot water felt so good. She leaned against him for a minute, hands on his hips. Then he soaked the washcloth with the fancy soap lotion and carefully, tenderly, washed her head to foot, no sexual encouragement, like a brother except a brother wouldn't have done this for her. He washed her hair too, her face resting on his shoulder as he worked his hands through the lather, tipping her head back to rinse it out, massaging the conditioner and rinsing that out perfectly.

Molly smiled a little as Freddie ran his hands through her hair a last time. "You're good at this."

"Instinct," he told her, "Desperation."

When he was through he helped her out, dried her off with a fluffy towel and dropped her silk nightgown over her head, then wrapped up in his big terry bathrobe. They said nothing. He found her hairdryer and led her to the living room where he sat on the floor with legs drawn up and had her lean back against them, hair trailing over his knees, and blew and brushed it dry. Her brain was nearly turned off; she let him handle her like a child, something she'd never tolerate under normal circumstances and had never tolerated before from anyone else. He set the dryer on the floor.

She turned and looked at him with sad eyes. "Can you help me sleep, Freddie? Can you keep the bad dreams away?" He lifted her in his arms and carried her into the bedroom, laying her on the bed. Finding a couple of quilts he climbed on the bed next to her before he pulled them up, covering her securely. "Relax, _querida_ , just relax." He held her against him, cradling her like a baby, and rocked her slowly. "Go to sleep, I'm here. It's gonna be okay."

"Don't leave me, Freddie, okay. Don't ever." Her voice was vague.

"No. I won't leave, I'll stay right here with you."

She moved even closer and clutched his robe in her hands. "I'm so scared," she breathed, "I don't wanna be alone. If I lose her, I'll be so alone."

"You're not alone, querida, I'm right here with you. Don't be scared, it's gonna be okay. I promise. You know I keep my promises." She nodded and turned her face against his shoulder.

"Don't leave me," she repeated.

"No," he replied. "Never."

He was so warm and gentle. He surrounded her, secure, and somewhere inside she wondered if he knew he was making dangerous promises. Dangerous because she always believed him, always. He was stroking her face softly, kissing her hair. "Sleep, Besita, go to sleep. I'm here." She faded off to the sound of quiet Spanish, words she didn't understand that sounded like a spoken lullaby.

* * *

 _She was alone. He was gone. He got tired of caring for a middle-aged baby case and he was gone._

Molly sat bolt upright, eyes wide with pain and fear. Freddie came back from the bathroom. "What's wrong, Molly?"

"You were gone. I thought you were gone. Because I need so much, you wanted someone who doesn't need that much. You're too young for all this drama, I thought you were gone."

He came back to the bed in a hurry and took her in his arms. "I told you, I'm here, I'm staying, I'm not going. I'm not too young to care about you. Remember? I'm old enough to be good to you. Come on," he lay down and took her with him. "I love you," he whispered in her ear, "You know that. Go to sleep, querida, it's all right. I'm here." She made a little whimpering sound and he tightened his embrace. "It's okay."

She turned away from him in the night and he moved with her, one long arm around her waist and the other reaching over where he could cradle her face in long gentle fingers. Spooned back against him, she felt his warmth against her back and along her legs, even through her sleep she felt it. Shelter.

She rolled back against him and he went to his back, arms still resolutely enfolding her. He looked like a sleeping angel, sweet, young, old enough to be good to her. She turned in his arms and burrowed against his side, feeling safe. How did he do that? Even when he was asleep he made her feel so safe.


	4. We Gotta Talk

Her eyes opened at last to see him watching her, leaning up on his side, to feel his hand cupping her cheek. "Good morning, pretty," he told her.

"I'm sorry I'm so much trouble."

"Sshhh, no trouble. Holding you is my favorite thing. You feel so good."

She took his hand in hers and traced the long fingers. "I love your hands, they're so beautiful. Long, and expressive. Gentle." She kissed his palm and fingers.

"Did you sleep okay?" he asked her.

"Yeah," she said, wonderingly, not having expected to.

"Any dreams?"

"Just you. I only dreamed of you, keeping me safe." He smiled and kissed her. "Good. You wanna call the hospital?"

She sat up suddenly. "Yeah, the hospital. I gotta call." She reached for the phone and dialed the number that she'd memorized in a heartbeat, it seemed. She spoke quietly for a couple of minutes, and when Freddie got back from making the coffee she told him, "She's awake. She's responding. I gotta go see her."

"Let me get dressed and I'll take you."

"You can't. You _know_ you can't."

"Molly we work together. We're seen together all the time. Let me drive you. I won't come in, I won't touch you in public. But let me take you in, okay? Then you call me and I'll pick you up and bring you to the office and we'll see what's what. Okay?"

She relented. "Okay. I'm still a little shaky. Sure. I wish I had something to lend you, my pants would be way too tight even for you."

He laughed quietly. "Don't worry, I brought a bag. I'll just be a couple minutes."

He came back to the living room by the time she'd finished her coffee. He was in the usual jeans, but wearing a yellow v-neck sweater with the sleeves pushed up. His hair was damp and wavy. He looked so beautiful.

She got up from her chair and covered the room in two steps, throwing her arms around his neck. "'Thank you' sounds so cheap. You take such good care of me. How do I make it up to you?"

"You don't have to. It all evens out, doesn't it? Kiss me, pretty."

She did, long and deep. "Take me to Wendy. I promise I won't kiss you in front of the hospital."

"Hey I'm the one has to make all the promises, remember?"

When he dropped her off in front of Good Samaritan he leaned in and kissed her cheek. "That shouldn't have the tabloids howling down on us." She bounded out of the car without another word.

* * *

Joey was already there. Molly knew he was in love with Wendy, and had been for a long time. Wendy knew it too, but she couldn't decide what she wanted. Joey was ten years younger. Molly had been hoping her own decisions would give her friend some courage to make the right ones for herself.

"What's happening, Joey?"

"They tell you she's awake? She's what they call 'responsive', means she knows stuff is going on around her. They said they'll let you see her. You must have made an impression."

"Have you seen her?"

He looked pained. "Nope. But they give me reports every half hour. It's okay, Molly, I know what she looks like and I don't think I really want to see what she looks like right now. Does that make me an asshole?"

She hugged him. "No, Joey, nothing could do that."

She went to the nurses' station. "Hi. Molly O'Rourke. I have privileges." The charge nurse led her to the room. Molly stepped in hesitantly, went to the bed and took Wendy's hand.

"Hey, Wen. It's me, it's Molly. You know I had to come flying back from Baltimore a day early, leave Freddie on his own with a fan club president to babysit him through a TV interview. What you thinking of, girlfriend?"

A weak, whispery voice drifted from the bandages. "Did Hunk-a-Rican stay out of trouble?"

Molly almost passed out at the sound; she actually felt her knees go weak.

"Yeah, he did. That kid I left him with is as hard as me. Shit Wendy, you zigged when you should have zagged, huh?"

"Shitfaced asshole," she croaked. "My head hurts, Mol. _Everything_ hurts. Can you call the nurse?" Molly rang the buzzer. "Can she have something for her headache?" The nurse disappeared and was back in a second with a needle to inject into one of Wendy's seemingly limitless I.V.s.

"Look honey, I don't wanna tire you out. I just had to see for myself you were awake and all that. You just stay quiet and get better and for christsake do what they tell you, okay? I'll be back later. I got shitloads of work to catch up on at the office, but I couldn't concentrate until I saw you."

"Freddie taking good care of you?"

Molly smiled and kissed Wendy's hand. "The best. I couldn't survive this without him. Jesus Wendy, I was so scared, you scared me so bad." She smiled self consciously. "You know, all about me!"

"Gotta keep your attention." Her voice was getting weaker. "Need some sleep. See ya later, Mol. Give Joey a kiss for me, okay? Freddie too."

"Sure." She went to the door, paused, and returned to the bed. "I love you, Wen."

"Back atya."

* * *

Molly took great gulping breaths of air as she walked back to the waiting area. It seemed to her she'd been holding her breath for days. She threw her arms around Joey and kissed him square on the lips. "That's from Wendy. She talked to me, Joey, she's awake and knew who I was. She was even a little bit smartass."

The nurse who'd followed her cautioned, "Miss O'Rourke, it's important you know that Miss Maginty isn't out of the woods yet. She's only been upgraded from grave to critical condition. But this is a good sign. It's good to have her recognize people." Molly thanked her, said goodbye to Joey, and headed downstairs to get a cab. She was so relieved she forgot to call Freddie to come get her.

She let herself into the apartment and headed by reflex into her office. "Hey, you, why didn't you call?" Freddie came out of the den and followed her into the office. She turned to face him, eyes wide and wild.

"Oh no, oh shit," he expected the worst. She shook her head, unable to speak clearly at first.

"No, no, she's awake, she knew me, she _talked_ to me," and the anguish she'd held back for days came rushing forth. Freddie caught her as her knees buckled and dragged her to the sofa.

"Jesus, she's still critical but she's alive and she _knew_ me," she gasped, gripping Freddie's hands. She found no more words but doubled over, trembling. He rubbed her back, leaned over her.

"That's so great, see I told you it'd be okay, I told you."

She sat up and looked him in the eye, stroked a thumb along his mustache and touched his face. "You promised, didn't you? You always keep your promises." and she wrapped her arms around his neck and held on tight, burying her face into his shoulder as he hugged and rocked her. She got hold of herself in a few minutes and released her headlock on him; he seemed reluctant to let her go.

"You okay now, _querida_?"

She smiled brightly. "Yeah, the nurse made sure I knew that Wendy isn't all better but I can handle that now. Now that we actually talked and everything." She took Freddie's hand and kissed it. "That's from Wendy. She asked me if you were taking good care of me. I said yeah, the best. You know, Joey is so in love with her, and I know she loves him, but she's a little weirded out by the age difference."

"She older than him?"

"Ten years. It gets to her so she can't make up her mind."

Freddie laughed out loud. "Ten years? What a lightweight!" Molly looked hard at him, taken by his laughter and the way his eyes lit up with relief now that she was feeling better.

"Kiss me, beautiful," she told him. He pulled her into his arms.

"Stealing my lines again?" he asked her before working her mouth over inside and out. She thrust her hands into his hair and held onto him the way she did that first night at the Emmy party, and so many times since. "You know, you're gonna pull all my hair out and I'll lose my job."

She didn't let go. "I have to hold onto something or I'll just fall in a heap. Do you know what you do to me, how you reach inside and melt me?"

He touched his nose to hers. "You are pretty good at telling me. Do you know how you light me up inside, help me see the parts of me that make sense? That light in your eyes, your pretty eyes, you share that with me and I'm not in the dark like I used to be. It scares me sometimes how dark I am when I'm alone."

"I won't let you be dark any more. You don't belong that way. You need to believe in yourself like I do. Like everyone else does. I'll help you light your own light, I promise, and you'll always have it with you. You won't be able to resist it."

"How can I say no to such a strong and wise woman, huh?"

"I didn't mean it. What I said about kissing you that night. I'm glad I did, I'm glad you made me do it. I'm glad I took you back to the hotel that night. I don't know how this is going to go, but I'm gonna do what Wendy told me and hang on with both hands for as long as I can. Now I gotta go out to the store and get some office supplies."

He knew she loved doing that like a kid loves going to the toy store. He could never understand it, himself. Whenever she got back she'd unpack her goodies like it was Christmas.

"Okay, have fun" He laughed as she bounded out the door.

* * *

An hour later, Molly trotted in the door waving her bag as always. "Good stuff cheap!" she sang out.

Freddie went to her, grim-faced, and took the bag from her then took both her hands in his own.

"We gotta talk, Molly. The hospital called, and we gotta talk."


	5. Into the Void

Molly saw something in Freddie's eyes, something that told her before he said another word. He was struggling; how could he know how to tell her something so unthinkable? He probably hadn't dealt with anything like it in his life.

"I love you, Molly, I love you." It was all he could think of to say.

The last words Molly spoke to Freddie before retreating into a world of pain and fear were, "I know. You don't have to tell me, I know."

He was waiting for hysteria, for a storm of grief, she could tell. But nothing came. She sat down on the sofa, staring fixedly ahead as Freddie explained in a halting voice. "Joey called from the hospital. He said Wendy had a hemorrhage in her brain. It was over almost before they knew what was happening."

She turned to look at him, seeing his eyes full of pain and caring. She could tell he wanted to help her deal with this. She had no idea how he could, no more than she figured he did. He reached for her but she pulled back.

"Not now," she told him. "Not now. I have to think. Is Joey still at the hospital? She has no family. How are we gonna do this?" She felt absurdly calm, where Freddie looked stunned and frightened. "I have to go to the hospital."

"I'll drive you," Freddie declared. That, at least, was something he could do for her.

"No."

"Let me..." he began.

" _No_. I'm going by myself. This is _my_ life, Freddie, not yours."

She took the car keys from the hook and left.

* * *

Molly found Joey a wreck of tears and hysteria in the intensive care area. She hugged him, kissed him, told him to take some deep breaths, and went to the nurses' station.

"I'm so sorry," the doctor on duty said. "We didn't even have the chance to try."

"I knew you did what you could for her. There's a problem here, she has no family. No parents, no siblings, nobody. I don't know what to do about, you know, arrangements and all that. She had insurance I think, but I don't know how to do this."

"If you will sign some authorizations we can designate you a family proxy, since she has none."

She signed everything they put before her. "Let me see her."

The doctor tried to deter her.

"I don't think it's a good idea."

"I have to see her," Molly insisted, "or I won't believe it. Can you understand that?"

"All right. Please come with me." He took her to an orderly who led her to the basement. The morgue.

* * *

Wendy lay on a table in a very cold room. The bandages had been unwound from her head. Funny, there were only some stitches, a bruise, and her blonde hair was shaved off. The orderly stood back as Molly approached, touched Wendy's cold hand, and pulled back.

"Bitch," she muttered. "You said you l _oved_ me. Now look what you've done. I told you Freddie couldn't handle this. Joey can't either. Look what you've done to us." She tilted her head back, eyes closed, and took a shattering breath, then turned to the orderly. "Fine. What happens next?"

He was clinical, for which Molly was oddly grateful. "Well since she died in hospital care there has to be an autopsy to determine the cause of death. Insurance, and all that. Then we can release her to you. Likely tomorrow, late."

"Okay. I have to do some things in the meantime. Thanks." He showed her back to the waiting area where she took charge of a ruined Joey. "Joey, we gotta get it together. Let's go to the bar and talk to Marty. Wendy always said his bookkeeper took care of her papers."

Joey told her in barely a whisper, "I loved her so much, Mol."

She kissed his cheek. "She knew it, Joey, and she loved you too. So much. She just didn't know how to deal with it, that's all." She drove them to the bar and talked to Marty, who had to tell the rest of the staff. Wendy was popular with coworkers and customers. It was a difficult scene.

The next hours passed like a bad dream. Marty and his bookkeeper took over the arrangements. Molly let him know that Wendy had always said she wanted to be cremated, have a gathering at the Unitarian house, no church service. Marty asked her if she wanted to speak at the service. Molly said no, there was nothing left to say.

* * *

When she finally got back to her place Freddie was there. "I thought you were at home," she said.

"I was. I came back here. Tell me what's happening."

"Wendy's being cremated tomorrow. Marty, he owns the bar and was kind of a surrogate father to Wendy, he's handling everything. Day after tomorrow there's a sort of a gathering at the Unitarian house. Wendy always said she wanted to be scattered off of Malibu. We'll do that after."

"I'll go with you to the funeral."

"Gathering," she corrected firmly, "and no, you can't. Press already knows who I work for, they'll be there looking for you. No sense turning it into a circus."

"Look, I want to..." he began but she cut him off.

"This isn't _about_ you," she snapped, "can't you get that through your head? It isn't about you."

"Why do you keep wanting to cut me out" Freddie burst out. "It's not my life, it's not about me. Well your life is something about me, it has been for a long time. But forget about that. Wendy is who told you to hold onto me with both hands, and I owe her for that. I owe _her_. So I want to be there. I will be there."

" _NO._ "

He was dumbfounded, confused and struggling with pain of his own. "What are you afraid of, anyway? Are you afraid you'll crack and I'll comfort you in public? Are you afraid you might be tempted to lean on me? _Fuck_ the press, Molly. Fuck the rules, and fuck your deal with Komack to keep us a secret from the public. I want to be with you for you, and for Wendy. And fuck _everything_ else."

Molly grabbed her head as if it were about to explode. Freddie reached for her; she stepped away.

"Will you _stop_ that? I'm okay."

"Besita," he told her quietly, "it's okay to cry. It's okay to let it out."

"I don't have any tears in me, okay? I'm dry and empty and don't have anything to let out. I don't need to lean on anybody because I'm standing up on my own. I'm a goddamn adult, Freddie, and I can handle this like one."

"So am I," he told her. "I'm old enough to be good to you. Why won't you let me?"

"Because I don't need it. I can handle this without the sheltering arms and hot lips of Freddie Hunk-a-Rican Prinze."

She wanted him to leave, God she wanted him to _leave_. She didn't want to need him. She was empty inside, and he was trying to fill that place and spill it out all at once. "I'm asking you nice, Freddie, go home. We have no work, you're on vacation. Go home. Don't come to the gathering, please, you'll bring your fans and press with you. I gotta be with Joey. He needs me a lot more than I need you."

She was trying to cut him, why she didn't know, but she was trying hard. Still there was no hurt in his face except for her.

He left.

* * *

At the Unitarian house there was the entire staff of the bar, and dozens of customers. Molly sat up front with Joey and Marty, their hands clutched in a death grip. Freddie slipped in wearing a dark suit and shades and sat in the back, hoping to be incognito. It didn't work. Press and fans were outside, and Molly was livid.

"I told you to stay away," she hissed, " _look_ what you've done. Don't you dare come to Malibu, don't you fucking _dare_." She snarled at the crowd, "Leave us in peace, will you?"

Still, at the beach where they scattered what was left of Wendy, Molly found herself looking for Freddie. She told herself she'd be enraged if he was there, but deep inside she was begging him to appear. He'd stayed away, as she'd insisted.

* * *

Things got back to normal, or at least work did. She went to the office, kept Freddie together and on schedule. He asked about coming by but she kept him away with excuses. I'm tired, I'm not feeling well, all the things she figured went along with her recent trauma. At the office she accepted his hugs and words of comfort, for a while anyway, but didn't respond. She wasn't sleeping at night, seldom ate, and she cursed him for his deep knowledge of her because he saw the disintegration happening and refused to ignore it. Every day he asked her, "Did you sleep, you don't look good, you're losing weight, are you eating, let me make you dinner tonight."

"No thanks, I'm fine, just give me a chance to process this," she told him again and again.

When she started drinking at night to try to sleep she thought she could keep that from him, too.


	6. Darker and Darker

The vodka that helped Molly pass out at night was close enough to sleeping pills, she figured, and it's the best she could do.

But Freddie saw her come in sick in the morning, sometimes late, tired and drawn and bitchy as hell. The connection between them that had drawn tighter and closer over the past months was beginning to fray. Molly suggested that Freddie try not to be at home when she was working. She told him he was getting obsessed with her situation, worrying too much. It was going to distract him from his work at the studio, and it was getting in her way.

He took to calling her at night when he knew she was home. If she wasn't too far gone she'd answer the phone, but damn him he could tell. He could always tell.

"You gotta lay off that shit," he told her one day when he refused to leave his home while she was working. "Booze isn't gonna help you. Why won't you talk to me? We used to talk, tell each other everything. There was no hurt you couldn't tell me about, and I'd always listen and try to help you make it better. I know you. You're looking for a painkiller, and you're drinking it every night now. You used to want to beat the problems, now you just want to drown them."

She listened, staring stonily at him. "If you're finished with therapy hour, I have work to do." She did her work, goddammit, she was still keeping it together, why wasn't that good enough? One particularly ugly morning Freddie asked her again if he could come by.

"Look," she said, "if you're so anxious to get laid why don't you just look outside your dressing room door? The faces may change, but the bodies are still willing."

Fed up, he slammed out of the apartment. _Good_ , she thought. Good. She was tired of trying to explain full-grown pain to a kid.

* * *

One afternoon Jimmy called to say he wanted to meet with her next day. When she got to his office there were no papers, no notebooks or memos on his desk. He got up and closed the door, which was unusual. He'd asked his secretary to hold calls until they were through, whenever that was.

"We have a problem, Molly."

"What's that?"

"Freddie came to me, he's worried about you. He told me you're coming apart right in front of him. and he told me about the drinking, coming in late and hung over, the mood swings."

"Well he's a proper little informer, isn't he?" she sniped. "He's having trouble distinguishing _his_ business from _mine_."

"You work with him. While you're on the payroll, that _is_ his business, and that makes it my business."

"I'm getting the work done. I'm keeping him together and in order and on schedule."

"So far." Jimmy was trying to keep it professional, but Molly was caring less and less about that. "Freddie's worried that you may not be keeping it together much longer."

"Freddie's 'worried' that he's not getting _laid_ anymore," Molly sneered. "Our, uh, relationship has been in the cooler for a little while. I'd think you'd be happy about that."

"He didn't mention any of that. And if Freddie wants to get laid, there's no shortage of opportunity here. I know that's none of my affair, but don't sell him short. He came to me not just because of business worries, and not because of his disrupted sex life. He's over his head dealing with you, so he came to me to see if I could make you listen to reason."

"Reason? What the hell does that mean?" Christ her head was pounding and she felt nauseous.

Jimmy spread his hands on the desk. "Look Molly, you know I'm not just worried about Freddie's itineraries and fan clubs. If all I cared about was that I wouldn't have done the things I did when you left that jerk you were with."

"Oh, here we go with that again. Is this payback time?"

Now he sat back and threw up his hands.

" _Listen_ to yourself, Molly. You spew venom every time you open your mouth. You and Freddie worked so well together because you know each other so well, he trusted you."

"Past tense."

"That's right. You're so changed that he doesn't know what to expect. Yeah you get the work done, but you're destroying your working relationship with him, and that means that sooner or later the work won't matter. and I'm telling you now I won't stand for that."

"So fire me, goddammit, just fire me and I'll find another gig." Molly had a contract with Komack Productions, and couldn't quit without a lawsuit until it was up or she was released. _Fire me. Make it simple._

"Fire you?" He shook his head as if the idea were absurd. "Oh no, that's _too_ easy. You'd like that, wouldn't you, another reason to go deeper in the hole you're digging for yourself. Wrong again. I'm putting you on suspension. Two weeks. In two weeks we'll meet again. You have health insurance coverage, I want you to see a doctor. You look like shit. You're not sleeping, you're not eating, but you are sure as shit drinking your way into the grave. I won't stand for that either."

" _Suspension_? What am I, a ball player?"

"No. You're a valuable employee, and you support the hottest star we have. I can't afford to lose you, Freddie can't afford to. So you're on suspension."

"So who's gonna support your hot star if I'm on 'suspension'?"

"I'm getting a temp from personnel."

"A _temp_!?" she hooted. "A temp who can handle all that mail and fan club shit, and keep Freddie on schedule? Oh, please."

"A temp would be better than you right now, because the stress is killing Freddie. He can't concentrate, he's having trouble on the set. You might think this is all your problem, but it's Freddie's too because it's making him sick. Whenever he told me you kicked him out of his _own apartment_ so you can 'get more work done' I damn near died. What really got to me is that he _did_ it."

"So if he's so sick over it, why's he doing it?"

"Because he'll do whatever he thinks you want to get yourself together, and he is fresh out of ideas. He's only twenty-three, Molly, how wise do you think he is in dealing with your games?" Jimmy's temper was wearing thin.

"So I'm on 'suspension.' What do I do? I need to work, Jimmy. I can't just sit around all day and stare at the wall."

"I told you. See a doctor."

"You mean a shrink."

"Whatever works. Don't think nobody has noticed you started unraveling from the time your friend died. You shut everyone out, even Freddie who for better or worse was closer to you than anybody. For Godsake I never thought I'd say this, but you need to talk to him. _Listen_ to him, like he listens to you. You were friends, no matter what else you were, let him back in, Molly. I saw how you were together, almost since you met something clicked there that was more than business, and it helped you both when things were hard. Him _and_ you. And totally off the record, it would be a goddamn shame to throw that away."

"Is that an order?" She was staring at the ceiling.

"It's a very pointed suggestion. _Look_ at me, goddammit." His tone jolted her, and she looked him in the eye. He looked remarkably like Freddie did, pain and caring and a wearing of patience that told her she was close to the edge of something worse than she already knew. "I've been more than a boss to you, and you're more to me than an employee. I'm asking you as a mentor, as a _friend_ , please don't let yourself dissolve like this. I can't make you pull it together, I can only give you the time and opportunity to do it yourself."

She got up. Meeting over. "I'll think about it."

"Right." His voice was colder. "See you in two weeks."

The phone was ringing when she got in the door. It was Freddie.

* * *

"Fuck you, Pruetzel, how dare you inform on me like that? You took my private business to Jimmy."

 _"Well you weren't listening to me, I was so over my head I had to take it somewhere else to somebody who knows you."_

Over his head. That's what Jimmy had said.

 _"Tell me what you need, just tell me,"_ he pleaded.

"What I _need_ is for you to leave me alone. Shit, Freddie, why can't you just leave me _alone_?"

 _"Because I love you. Because I told you I wouldn't. I meant it. I won't leave you alone, not ever. You said you didn't want to be alone, you asked me not to leave. You said 'don't ever.' and I won't. Deal with it."_

His voice was old, older than she'd ever heard it.

"Stubborn _kid_."

 _"I'm old enough to be good to you. I'm coming by tonight at eight. Try to be sober."_

"Fuck you. I won't let you in."

 _"I have the key."_

"I'll call the cops. I'll say Freddie Prinze is harassing me, threatening me. The tabs will love it."

 _"I don't care. Eight o'clock. Ready or not."_

"I'll call the tabs _myself_. Sell 'em a real hot story."

 _"I don't care. I_ don't care _. I will not let you go down this hole, I won't."_

"What are you gonna do about it, Emmy boy? What?" She was getting shaky.

 _"I'm gonna grab hold of you with both hands and not let go. If you go down, I'm going with you."_

She hung up on him, knocked back two big vodkas, and waited. He wouldn't _dare_.

Why was she acting like she hated him? Why was it the thing that helped her most, that was closest to her heart and self for so long, why was she trying to throw it away with both hands? Because that way she was in control. If she threw it away, nobody could take it from her first, and she was willing to bet he knew that, too. She had another drink.

* * *

At eight o'clock on the dot there was a knock at the door.

"Get lost," she snapped.

"Let me in, Besita."

"Don't call me that. And get lost."

Freddie would not be deterred. "You know I have the key."

"I'm calling the cops." She heard the key in the lock.

"No you're not."

"Well why the hell not?"

He stepped in and closed the door behind him, and answered without a trace of ego or irony, "Because you need me." Then e took the glass out of her hand, went to the sink and poured what was left of the vodka down the drain, from glass and bottle.

"Too late, asshole, I'm already blasted." She threw herself on the sofa, and he sat next to her.

"Talk to me, Molly."

"There's nothing to say."

"Bullshit. Look at me."

She didn't want to. Those eyes... they'd see to her soul. They'd drag her in. They'd make it impossible for her to shove him away.

" _Look_ at me."

She did. The face she saw reflected in his eyes was haggard, terrified. Lonely.

"Talk to me," he said in a soft voice. "You won't listen to me, so talk to me. Tell me what's inside. You've always been able to. Do it now. Tell me where it hurts and we'll make it better, you and me, like we always did before. Like you do for me." His hand crept carefully to take hers. She didn't pull away. "Tell me where it hurts, pretty, and we'll fix it."

In spite of herself, or maybe it was the vodka, she told him in a dry voice "There's nothing to hurt. Just a big hole in the middle, a big hole where it's cold and empty."

His other hand rose to cup her cheek. "Bonita, I'm so sorry you lost so much, so sorry it left such a big cold hole inside. Let me in, let me back in and maybe I can help make it warm again. The light is so far gone, it hurts to see it. Maybe we can bring it back, huh?"

" _Light_ , what is it with you and the fucking light in me? You're the only one who seems to be able to see it."

"Maybe I'm the only one close enough to."

She heaved a huge empty sigh. "You're too young to know when you should quit. You're just not gonna let me _be_ , are you?"

His mouth turned up in a small smile. "Count on it. Stubborn kid."

She was so used up, so beat down, she let him, she let him tip her so her head lay on the pillow he dropped in his lap, let him hold both her hands in one of his, let him stroke the other endlessly through her hair. She let him lift her into his arms, look into her eyes and tell her, "It's okay, you can let it go now," and she was so drunk and so lost she did, crying like an abandoned child, only the second time ever he had seen her cry, but he seemed to know what to do, hung on tight like he promised he would as she took great sobbing gulps of air and released them in tears and desperate words, "I'm sorry Freddie, I'm sorry, please don't leave me, I'm so alone now."

"You're not alone, Molly, you have lots of people waiting to get in. I'm just the first in line."

Her head hurt from the vodka and he massaged her neck and shoulders as she lay on the sofa, stopping to kiss the back of her head. I love you, pretty, I always have. She turned over and hugged him desperately around his neck, kissed his face and begged him to forgive her for all the poison she'd tried to bury him with.

"Ssshh." He petted and shushed her. "Don't worry about that, it's okay, tell me where it hurts and we'll make it better." She pulled at his sweater and tried to take it off but he wouldn't let her. "No Molly not tonight, not now, that's not how to help. That's not what we're all about, it's never been."

"I can't sleep, I haven't slept in so long. It's all so black and cold."

"Come on, Besita, I'll help you sleep, I'll keep you warm. Come on." He carried her into the bedroom and found the quilt to cover them and again she tried to persuade him and again he said no. "Sleep, _querida_ , you know I love you, but sleep now. I'll keep away the dreams you don't remember."

"Talk to me, Freddie, just talk," she asked him.

"What should I say?"

"Anything, but in Spanish."

He smiled gently at her, "But you don't understand Spanish."

"I don't care, I need the sound, the music of it, tell me about your day, your childhood, the weather, the phone book I don't care. Talk to me in Spanish, please."

So he did, and what she heard as she finally, finally fell into a real sleep was the low gentle sound of his voice saying things she needed to hear in a language she didn't understand.

* * *

She woke up crying. She tried to stop but she couldn't and he told her don't try, just let it come, I don't mind.

"It's okay, baby, just let it come." And she didn't mind that he called her baby because it sounded so full of caring, and he rocked her like the child she felt like. "I love you, Besita, just hold on and you'll be okay, hold onto me. I won't leave." She fell back to sleep again, wrapped in his warmth.

Kisses, she felt kisses on her face, in her hair, against her neck. She felt tears mixed with them, running into his mustache, wetting his lips. "Don't cry, Carlito, not for me. I'm sorry I made you so sick and worried, I'm sorry. Kiss me, beautiful Freddie, kiss me."

He did, gentle, deep, again and again.

"I miss you, Molly, I miss us talking. I miss our friendship, it hurt so much when you made me leave. I didn't know how to reach you, that's why I went to Jimmy, you scared me so bad. I didn't know what else to do." His voice was a whisper, she heard it through her haze of alcohol and sleep.

"It's okay, Carlito, I was wrong, okay, I was wrong. I'm sorry, I never want to hurt you, you're so good to me." He rolled her up against him and hugged her tight, she wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her face against his neck and kissed the soft skin under his ear. "I love you, Carlito, I always have."

Exhausted by tears and words they fell asleep wound tightly together and slept late into the morning.

* * *

She woke up with a wicked headache, unable to move. Freddie was wrapped around her like a boa constrictor. She felt like shit, but he felt good to her. Warm, strong, safe. He felt her move, and shifted a little. He woke up with a smile. She never could understand that. She woke with groans and whimpers but he woke up with smiles and laughter.

"How do you do that," she wanted to know.

"Must be that goofy sleepy face makes me smile." he said.

She struggled to remember what happened last night. Words, lots of words. She remembered crying, him holding her. They had their clothes on, so no hanky-panky. She wanted badly to wrestle her armor back into place. She groaned, in tremendous pain from her head to her feet.

"Hung over, huh," he whispered. (Thank God, out loud would kill her.) She nodded painfully. Carefully he disengaged himself, leaving her lying moaning under the quilt. He came back with some juice and aspirin. She swallowed, drank, and drank some more. He sat next to her and stroked her head.

"You'll feel better later. Just stay in bed and I'll call in today. No taping anyway, just a script meeting. I can catch up later."

"You don't have to stay."

"Hmm where have I heard that before," he teased. He returned from the phone call. "Can you believe Jimmy is relieved I'm here. Here, let me help," he stretched out next to her and continued running his hand over her forehead and through her hair, and kissed her cheek. He nuzzled her neck. "Mmm that feels nice. But careful, everything hurts." He draped his arm over her stomach. "I'll stay here with you, is that all right? I missed you so much, missed touching you and smelling you and hearing your voice. You were some kind of mean bitch, lemme tell you."

She started to cry again, alarming him.

"No, no, I'm kidding, please don't cry."

"You wanna touch me and smell me and I feel like shit and smell like booze but you still want me anyway."

"I've lowered my standards."

"Ha, ha. Ooh, just shoot me will you?"

He kissed her instead. "How's that?"

"I wish I could say it makes it all better but!"

"Give it time. We'll make it all better." She dropped off to sleep again with the feel of his fingers stroking her face.

When she woke hours later it was dark and she was feeling much better, if still shaky. Freddie was asleep next to her, on his side facing her. What a job she did on him last night. What a job she did on him for the past month. What a bitch she was. Here was this guy, this kid, wanting nothing but to stand by her and help her through the worst hell of living memory, and she treated him like the enemy. She came close to what she thought she'd wanted, to drive him away. It scared her to think how close. She'd heard it in the slam of the door the other day. She treated Jimmy like shit. All he wanted was to help, too. She rolled over and wrapped an arm around Freddie. He stirred a bit but his eyes didn't open.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "You're old enough to be good to me, and I pushed you away, I told you I didn't need you. I do. I missed you too, I missed you listening and understanding and accepting what you don't quite understand. I love you Carlito, you should have walked but you didn't, you wouldn't. I don't deserve this."

"Maybe not, but you're stuck with me." His eyes opened slowly and his smile spread lazily.

"You were awake, you bastard."

He winked. "That's right. Sometimes the only way to get you to talk is to act like I'm not listening." She stared solemnly into his eyes, stroked his mustache with an index finger and he puckered his lips to kiss it. "You're so beautiful, so patient. So gentle. You save my soul," she breathed and laid her head on his shoulder.

"You don't need me to save it, Molly, you save it yourself. You just need a shove in the right direction. You know, you need to talk to Jimmy too. You were breaking his heart, even before I talked to him he could see you were in trouble, but he knew if he pushed that you'd just push back."

"So why weren't you afraid to push?"

"I guess I'm too young to know when to quit."

She squirmed out of his arms. "Ick. I need a shower."

"Let me help."

This time when they got in and the hot water washed over them she reached for him and this time he didn't say no. He pressed her to the wall and entered her slowly, moved slowly, kissed her and held her and she clutched at him and called his name, his real name, over and over between kisses. "Freddie, I love you Freddie, I'm sorry."

She ran her hands over his wet skin, digging her nails into his ass, making him jump and push harder and she moved back at him every time.

"Yeah, yeah, oh yeah," he gasped in her ear and against her face. She buried her own face in his neck and he moaned. "Oh shit I _love_ it when you do that," and when she bit into him gently he moved faster and harder and made her come painfully hard, kept moving in her until her working against his neck and at his hips and ass pushed him over his own edge. "Yeah, yeah, oh yeah," he chanted as he pumped his last into her. It had been so long.

Then they washed each other, skin and hair; he was so tall she had to have him bend forward to reach his head, and she washed his face with her soapy hands and kissed his mustache and dimples when he smiled.

"What a face. No wonder everybody loves that face, it's so sweet." He pried himself away and climbed out of the tub. "And that ass," she added.

"Those painted-on jeans you wear don't hurt either," she sighed as she wrapped up in her terry cloth robe.

He laughed. "Y'know I bet that's why you wanna watch Chico. Get an eyeful of me in my painted-on jeans, just like all those teenage girls do. I've seen the look on your face when you come to my dressing room. That 'ha, ha girls, I can go in and _you_ can't' look. Meeeow, pffft, pffft," he made little cat-scratching motions with his hands. "That's so tacky, having to outdo teenagers!"

"Yeah well it wasn't too long ago you were out _doing_ them yourself."

"Ouch." He winced and covered his groin. "I never went for jailbait. God knows they went for me, though. Still do. Hang around with those ' _Hi_ Freddie,' smiles, you know? I don't think they even know what they're doing."

"You can't tell me you're never tempted," she suggested good naturedly. She simply wasn't threatened by them. But she did wonder. He wrapped his arms around her waist, still wearing nothing but a towel.

"Not since I been playing with the big girls!" He gobbled at her neck.

"Freddie, take it easy." He leaped back and threw his hands in the air.

"Argh, no marks!" He cupped his hands around his mouth and made like a bullhorn. "Put up your hands and step _away_ from the woman!" She stood unsmiling, hands on her hips, chin up.

"God you look good when you do that," he growled.

"Well take a picture. I gotta call Jimmy."

When he answered she told him, "Jimmy I wanna meet with you tomorrow."

" _I'm glad you're feeling better, but when I said two weeks I didn't mean two days. I meant two weeks."_

"But I don't _need_ any more time. Let's get together tomorrow, there's some things I gotta say."

" _Nope. Two weeks."_

"But _why_?"

" _Because you're a mess. I still want you to see a doctor. Gain a little weight. Eat and sleep regular. and dry out. Then we'll talk."_

"But Jimmy, I want to settle some things."

" _We will. In two weeks."_

He was starting to piss her off. " _Jimmy_ ,"

"Molly _, goddammit you are not the boss, I am. It's not all about what you think you want and need. Freddie might think so, but Freddie's only twenty three. I'm fifty three, and I see some things with a harder edge. and I'm not crazy in love with you."_

She was silent.

" _Molly you there?"_

"Yeah. So I'm not in charge. Sorry, my delusion. See you in two weeks. Well fed, well rested, and dried out. I'll find a doctor. I'll bring you a note."

" _Fine. Tell Freddie we've rescheduled the script meeting to next week, day before we start up again."_

Her voice went ice cold. "I'm on suspension. Tell him yourself." She handed the phone to Freddie.

" _God, that woman is a_ hard-ass _,"_ Jimmy told him.

"You're telling me. What's up?"

" _The script meeting is postponed to next week, day before start-up. Ten in the morning."_

"See you then."

" _Good luck, Freddie. You are gonna need it with that woman. Maybe you should find someone your own age, save yourself while you still can."_ He was only half kidding.

"Nah, they're too boring." He laughed and said goodbye.

"Fuck him, anyway," Molly snarled.

"Come on, Bonita, he's trying to help."

"He's trying to _remind_ me who's boss, is what he's trying."

He sat next to her on the sofa, but she edged away. "Molly, he wants you to get better, to put yourself back together."

She fixed him with a poisonous gaze. "You're not helping any, either, Freddie, backing up his bullshit two-week rule, see a shrink, 'dry out', bullshit. I was doing my work just fine, you guys just didn't like that I wasn't dealing with all this the way you think I should. You wanna see me all weepy and girly and 'oh _help_ me, please'. Bullshit. I deal with things my way, on my own, and you can't handle it. Sweet. One of you is fifty three, one of you is twenty three, and _neither one of you_ can deal with it."

"Stop this stuff, will you? You must know how lousy you've been doing. So find a good doctor, get yourself together, and check in with Jimmy in two weeks. What's the big deal?"

"Fuck him, and fuck you too. Everybody knows what's best for me except me."

In spite of everything Freddie's patience was wearing thin. "You sound like a damn teenager."

"Well you oughta like that. Got the teenager without the jailbait."

"What the hell does _that_ mean?"

"It means you got laid, so what's the complaint?"

His face went blank. " _Excuse_ me?"

"Suddenly you got a language barrier?"

"I just wanted to get laid, is that it? Are you crazy?"

"Well maybe _I_ did. You may be young, but you got the technique."

He didn't respond to that, at first, just shook his head slowly. Then he asked, "What happened to 'don't leave me, Freddie,' what happened to 'please don't leave me alone, I need you, nobody understands me like you', what happened to all that shit you said?"

"I was drunk. You knew I was drunk."

"Well you weren't drunk today."

"Well maybe I was just horny. Look, I think you oughta leave. This isn't getting any prettier."

"You gonna call a doctor?"

"What do _you_ think?" She got up and paced the room. "I don't _need_ a doctor. I _need_ people to leave me alone. I'm a grownup, I can deal with this on my own."

"Yeah, you're a grownup who drinks until she passes out because she's too scared and screwed up to sleep. A grownup who can't feed herself to stay healthy, who spits poison at all the people who care about her. Well I'm a 'grownup' too, Molly, even if I'm not as old as you at least I'm keeping my life together which is more than I can say for you."

"Now who's crazy? _I_ keep your life together, _Chico_ , and I'm well paid for the privilege."

"You know that's not what I mean. You know exactly what's going on, what Jimmy means, what I mean. You're not stupid, but you're doing a real good impression."

"Go home, Freddie. Go home and see what Jimmy's _temp_ can do for you."

She had her back to him. He approached her, extended a hand and then hesitated.

"Why, _why_ won't you let anybody reach you? Why won't you let me? You were right, nobody knows you like I do because nobody but Wendy has been closer to you than me, you wouldn't _let_ anybody get closer. Hell if I know why, but it just happened that way, and it is way too late to undo it. You won't listen, you won't talk, but Molly I am not gonna let this happen. I'm too young to know when to quit, don't forget that. When you finally shatter I'll be there with the dustpan."

Then he did lay a hand on her shoulder, and she jerked away and turned around with murder in her eye.

"Get the fuck out of my house, Freddie Prinze. Get out. Maybe I'll see Jimmy in two weeks, and maybe I won't. He ain't the only one who can hire a lawyer."

Freddie backed away, shaking his head again. "Think, Molly, think what you're doing to yourself. The hell with me and Jimmy, think of what's happening to you. If Wendy were here would you throw her out, tell her to fuck off and leave you alone?"

The fury in her face was replaced, for a heartbeat, with an immeasurable pain, but the mask returned as her voice rose to a near scream, "Do you _see_ Wendy here? She ain't coming back, so just leave her out of it. Now get the fuck _out_ before I call the cops." She stuck her hand out. "And gimme that goddamn key."

He was hoping she'd forget, but rage had sharpened her memory. He fished it out of his pocket and dropped it in her hand.

"I love you, Molly. Say what you want, drink all you want, screw yourself over all you want, but I love you. I'll never be your excuse, you hear me?" His voice rose as if it had to get through a thick wall. _"I'll never be your excuse."_ No answer. He left, closing the door quietly behind him.

She got changed and slammed out the door, headed for the Blue Parrot.


	7. Killing the Innocence

Two hours and four vodkas later Molly was feeling no pain. When Joey came in for his shift at ten o'clock he was stunned to see her.

"Molly, long time no see!" But when he gave her a kiss he could see she'd been into a glass big time. He shot a look at the other bartender, Annie, as he asked Molly, "How long you been here?"

Molly shrugged. "I dunno. An hour, two. Pour me another, Annie?" Joey's brow knit and he shook his head surreptitiously at Annie.

"Y'know, Molly, you were never much of a drinker. Maybe you've had enough for one night, huh?"

"But you don't know how many I've _had_." She wasn't exactly slurring, but displayed that painfully precise pronunciation that characterized the soon-to-be swacked.

"Well you seem loose enough. How about I buy you a burger?"

She shook her head lazily. "Not hungry, thanks. I'm thirsty."

"Well I'm head bartender and I say from now on it's water, or juice, or soda. Okay?" The look on her face told him that she wasn't happy with this. It also told him that what she'd had already hadn't entirely caught up with her yet. It was slow, so Joey parked himself across the bar from her.

"So how you been, sweetie? I haven't seen you in a month or more."

"No, not since we, well you know, said goodbye to Wendy." In her foggy way she expected a pained expression from Joey but all she saw was a little sad understanding.

"Yeah. I've been hoping you'd be coming in to dance or something, but I guess you've been busy with that TV star of yours."

Molly snorted. "Well not so's you'd notice. We've been, as they say, on the outs. and I've been suspended from work, two weeks starting three days ago. Or four, maybe. The boss doesn't like the way I'm processing my grief, or some such shit."

"But why would he suspend you for that?"

"Freddie went to talk to him, said he was _worried_ about me, said I wasn't sleeping or eating."

"And, are you?"

"Look, don't _you_ start on me. I'm handling this on my own, the way I know how. Freddie was always in my face, have you slept, have you eaten, you're not taking care of yourself, so I told him it would be better if he backed off. It was getting on my nerves, you know?"

"Honey, he cares about you. He'd notice if something was wrong probably before somebody else would, shit he sees you all the time."

"Well not anymore he doesn't. I kicked his ass out of my place today and I don't expect him back. I'm thinking maybe I'll try to get out of my Komack contract too. I've been there too long, five years with Komack and three with Mr. Chico Hot Stuff. Time for a change, for all of us."

"So I take it your, uh, personal relationship with Freddie is part of that change?"

She was having more trouble focusing. "Well yeah. Shit, Joey, no offense you being younger and all, but he's a kid, isn't he? I thought I could handle that, thought it wouldn't matter, but he just can't get what I'm going through."

"Have you tried to tell him? Wendy always said you had this strange connection, could tell each other everything and anything."

"Well I guess we've reached the limit to 'everything.' C'mon Joey, lemme have another. I promise I'll drink up and go home, no trouble."

"Nah, you've drained enough of our top shelf. Gotta leave some for the other patrons."

She sighed. "Okay, then. Time to trudge off." But she stumbled when she got off the stool, and barely caught herself on the bar.

This caught Joey's attention, for sure. "Did you drive here?"

"Well yeah, you think I flew?"

"Okay hand over the keys." She did so, without argument.

"C'mon Joey I'm not stupid. I'll walk home, it ain't far."

"I don't think so. How about a cab?"

"Uh-uh, no goddamn cabs. All the cabbies in town know me, know who I work for. They'd love to see me tanked, love to sell it to the tabs." She was fading fast, and rested her head on her arms. "Just need a minute, okay?"

Joey laid a hand briefly on her head, and left to make a call.

* * *

"Okay, Molly, up and out."

It was Freddie, keys in hand and not in the least amused.

Molly jerked upright. "Shit, who called _you_?"

"I did," Joey told her unapologetically. "I called the one person who won't sell you out to the press. Now go the hell home and sleep it off."

He kissed her cheek before he turned to take care of other patrons. "Love you baby, listen to your friends will you? We all love you." Then to Freddie, "Thanks man. You can use the back door if you want."

Freddie took Molly's arm. Trying to jerk away, she stumbled again and he caught her before she fell. "Goddammit, couldn't you at least do this at home?" he demanded.

"Somebody poured out my good stuff, asshole."

He wrapped an arm around her waist and helped her to the back door. "I parked out here. Making a scene is my job, not yours."

"Ooh, _ees not my yob_ , huh?" she smirked haphazardly.

He loaded her into the car and fastened her seat belt. "You can get your wheels tomorrow. I'm taking you home."

Molly laid her head back and said nothing during the ride. The drinks she'd had were in full bloom now, and she was in no shape to argue.

* * *

Freddie helped her to the front door, then muttering "Fuck this shit," he scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the elevator, then to her door, praising the god that protects suckers and drunks that nobody was there to see. Using the keys Joey gave him Freddie opened the door and kicked it shut behind them. He carried Molly into the bedroom and dropped her none too gently on the bed.

"You're not very gentle, gen..." She struggled with the pronunciation of "gentlemanly," then settled for, "Polite!"

He yanked her shoes off and covered her with the quilt. "Yeah well neither are you. You curse me and kick me out, and who is it that has to rescue your sorry drunken ass? Me, that's who. Now shut up and go to sleep. I'll be on the sofa."

Suddenly she softened. "Carlito..." She could barely pronounce it. "Can't you stay here, keep the dreams away?"

Freddie was dumbfounded.

"Are you _kidding_? One, you're too drunk to dream, and two, I don't sleep with drunk women. At least not a second time. So I'll be on the sofa." He grabbed another quilt and stomped into the living room.

Random thoughts washed over Molly. _He's saving my ass and all she I did was bitch at him. What a bitch I am._ Cursing him out, _throwing_ him out. She lay there and through her near-impenetrable drunken fog felt miserably guilty.

"Freddie?" she called, "Freddie, I'm sorry."

"I'll say you are, you are one sorry piece of humanity. Now shut up and sleep it off."

Overwhelmed by his rough tone, she burst into drunken tears. She tried not to make too much noise, but guessed he could hear her anyway. She waited for him to appear in the door, to hold her, to tell her it would be okay.

He called in from the living room, "Oh for Christsake, Molly, don't cry will you? Just go to sleep and you'll be nice and sick in the morning and that will be your penance, okay?"

She lost control, and sobbed endlessly. At last she felt the bed give next to her.

"Molly, please." His voice was quiet, with the kind of exaggerated patience reserved for spoiled children and drunks. "Calm down. There's no need to freak out. Just take these." He fed her some aspirin and held a glass of water to her lips. "And go to sleep, will you? I guarantee it won't look better in the morning but at least it'll focus into one image."

"Why can't you be good to me? You said you were old enough!" she trailed off with a gulp of tears. He sighed.

"Molly, I'm _trying_ to be good to you, I have tried so hard. I'm just not getting through, Jimmy's not, Joey's not. You got the smartest, best looking guys in L.A. trying to be good to you and all you do is smack 'em upside the head with that nasty mouth of yours." She stared up at him, teary and uncomprehending. "Ah, shit." He lifted her in his arms and carried her to the sofa.

"Huh?"

He answered before she asked. "Oh, no, I'm not gonna do the bed thing again. No more rock-a-bye and babysitting your hangover and getting screwed in every way possible. We're gonna do this my way." He sat at one end of the sofa and lifted his feet onto the coffee table, dropped a pillow in his lap, and laid her down on her side facing away from him. She tried to turn over but he wouldn't let her.

"Uh-uh, if you're gonna puke I'm not gonna give you mouth to mouth. Keep your head to the side." He laid a hand on the side of her head to anchor her, and she felt his touch, barely, was gentler than his words.

"How do you stand me," she mumbled, fading.

"Hell if I know, Molly."

As if in response, she reached for the hand at her head and pulled it around to hold it against her face. "'cause you love me!" The last thing she heard before she passed out was a pained sigh.

* * *

As Freddie had predicted, she woke up feeling like shit. She also woke up alone. On the coffee table was a pitcher of juice and a glass, a bottle of aspirin, and a note. She struggled to focus and finally took in Freddie's schoolboy printing.

"Drink plenty of this. Try not to o.d. You got eleven days to figure this out." Next to the other things was a phone book open to "Therapists", with a circle drawn around "Carol Whitmore, Psychologist," with a Wilshire Boulevard address. Not located far away, a woman, the things Molly imagined Freddie figured might make her less argumentative. She picked up the book and flung it across the room, regretting it instantly as pain shot through her head. She fell back on the sofa pillow, whimpering, gulped three aspirin and swilled down a full glass of juice. Then she struggled to her room and crashed on the bed, not bothering to pull up the quilt. She slept all day.

When finally she felt a little human it was nearly eight o'clock. She reached for the phone and called Freddie.

"Carlito?" she said in a small voice when he answered. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, you're so right. I am screwed up, I do spit poison, I'm such a bitch. You're right, you know me so well."

His voice was calm. _"You're still not getting it. It's about you, not me. Have you called the doctor yet?"_

"No. I will, I swear. Tomorrow. I just woke up."

" _I'll bet."_

"Freddie… can you come over? I'm so lonesome… please can you come over and talk to me?"

" _I'm talking to you now."_

"But it's not the same."

" _You bet it's not. You can't crawl all over me and cry and convince me you mean it when you say you're gonna try to straighten out."_

"But I _am_ , I don't like being this way."

" _Then_ do _something about it."_

"I will, but I need you. I need you so bad." Her voice was filling with tears.

" _You only think you do. I'm not gonna play that scene again, because you know what's gonna happen? Now you're sick and embarrassed and want somebody to hold you and tell you it's gonna be okay, and guess what, it's not gonna be okay. Not unless you wake the fuck up and take some control of what matters. Not work, not me, but what's inside your head."_

"But I will, I swear to god. If you come stay with me I can get some sleep and tomorrow…" she trailed off. She sensed his distance.

" _I'll tell you what'll happen. If you're sober when I get there you'll cry and apologize and tell me how much you need me and how I'm the only one who really understands you. If you're drunk, you'll just cry. Either way you'll beg and apologize and play me into staying and maybe making love to you. And in the morning, when you've had some sleep and are feeling better, you'll curse me out and tell me to fuck off and take every word I've given you, everything I've tried to do, and throw it back in my face like acid. You'll kick my ass out and take off and get drunk. Or you'll bring the bottle home. Then you'll call me, or Joey will call me to pick up your wasted ass again, and then the whole thing will start over. I love you, Molly, I swear I do, but I can't do this any more. You need to go to somebody who can help you find some answers for yourself. You have got to get some help."_

"But Carlito," she pleaded, " _you_ always helped me find answers, you know me, you know what I need."

" _Not anymore I don't."_ His voice was breaking. " _Molly, Molly, I don't know what to do, what to say to you. I don't know how to deal with this shit any more."_ She heard the beginnings of a sob. _"I'm_ twenty-three _, Molly, you have got forty years worth of pain and trouble and secrets inside of you and I don't have the answers. I can love you and listen to you and understand you until we are both in blue in the face, but I don't have any answers. They're locked inside you somewhere and I'm not the one who can find the key. Please, please call that therapist I circled, she looks like she might be okay for you, it's the best I can do."_

She could hear him coming undone.

"Freddie, _please_ don't leave me alone, you promised, you always keep your promises…"

" _You've gotta_ stop _this. I can't do this anymore, I can't fix you. You've got to fix yourself."_

He was crying audibly now.

"God, Freddie, I never meant to hurt you. I never wanted to hurt you like this. I never."

" _Just call that doctor, okay? Don't worry about me. Don't even think about me."_

"But I can't help but think of you. I know it sounds so lame with all I've been putting you through, but I love you Carlito. I do."

" _But you've gotta do what you're always telling me to do, you've gotta love_ yourself _. Do what I can't do, and drag yourself out of this black hole."_

She heard a sharp intake of breath as he regained control.

" _If you get drunk, don't call me because I won't talk and I won't listen. If Joey calls me again, I'm gonna tell him no. The next time I hear from you, you better be sober and you better have seen that doctor. Don't try to play for me again; I've read the script once too often. Now get some sleep, stay the hell at home and get some sleep."_

She spent the night curled in the fetal position on her bed, hugging the pillow that still smelled like Freddie. She had made him do what he swore he'd never do, turn away from her and leave her alone. It was something he'd never known was possible. She knew, and she made it happen, and he was right. She was dragging him face-down through a forty year minefield and along the way she'd killed some of what little innocence remained in a kid who already grew up at light speed.

At eight o'clock the next morning, having slept not at all, she called Carol Whitmore's office.


	8. Heading Home

Carol was not much older than Molly, a tall brunette with clear blue eyes. They sat in two comfortably upholstered chairs in her casual office. The atmosphere was relaxed; the room was decorated with Asian prints. On a corner table was a small statue of Kuan Yin. A good omen, Molly thought, but she was still armed with resentment. She was here because Freddie swore he wouldn't talk to her until she came.

"Well Molly tell me what brings you here."

"My boss and my boyfriend. My boss suspended me and told me to get a doctor. My boyfriend won't talk to me until I can tell him I came here."

"If those are the only reasons you're here it isn't going to help you much. What do you think you can get from this, personally?"

"I'm not sure," she admitted. "But I'm not sleeping, I'm not eating much. I drink too much. I mean I was never much of a drinker at all, but recently I've been doing it to help me sleep."

"Does it help?"

"Not really. But it numbs me out, which isn't the worst thing that could happen."

"Well let's start at the beginning. Why don't you tell me what you do for the boss who suspended you."

"I'm a personal assistant. I work for Komack Productions, we produce stuff like Sanford & Son and Welcome Back Kotter. Sitcoms."

"And what does a personal assistant do?"

"I'm assigned to a client. See he has an agent who gets him work proposals, a manager who is pretty much in charge of what direction his work will take, and the company promotion department arranges and approves things like personal appearances, endorsements, stuff like that. What I do is pull it all together, take what they do and turn it into a sensible day-to-day schedule and travel itinerary, like that. If his professional life is Mt. Everest, I'm the sherpa guide who gets him to the top. Only I do it every day. The hotter the actor as a property, the more complicated it is. I also handle getting script changes to him, run the dialogue to make sure he gets it down, and I'm a liaison with fan clubs. I make sure they have enough photos, bios, keep them up on his work and whereabouts. I also arrange appearances for fan club conferences and like that. I run those by his agent first, and coordinate with promotion."

"Sounds like a demanding job. Is your client one of the 'hot' ones?"

"The hottest. I work with Freddie Prinze, from Chico and the Man."

Carol nodded. "Very challenging. Someone that successful must require a great deal of work to keep in order."

"You have no idea."

"Why don't you tell me. For instance, what was it that changed things enough that your boss suspended you?"

"I told you. I wasn't eating, wasn't sleeping, showing up to the office hung over. Freddie complained to Jimmy. Jimmy Komack, my boss."

"So your work must have been suffering."

"No it wasn't, but he thought it might so he went to Jimmy, who suspended me and told me to get things together before we met again in two weeks."

"He wanted you to completely turn things around in two weeks?"

"Uh, no. He wanted me to show him I was trying. Like coming here."

"If your work wasn't suffering how was Freddie able to tell you were having a hard time? How long have you worked with him?"

"Just about three years. We have a close work style, it's necessary with my kind of job. My office is in his apartment, in fact. You get to know each other really well, you can tell when there's a problem on either side. In my case, it's my job. In his, well, he could just see something that made him nervous."

"Did he talk to you about it before he went to your boss? Bring to your attention you might be having some trouble? It's apparent you didn't see it that way, if it took your boss suspending you to get your attention."

"Yeah, well he did talk to me about it. We talked about it a few times. I guess I wasn't listening."

"What about your boyfriend? Did he see the same things Freddie did? Sleeping, eating, drinking troubles?"

She fidgeted in her chair. "Yeah. Same stuff."

"I get the impression you're not telling me everything. This isn't going to work unless you're completely open with me."

"Well, about my boyfriend. He's not exactly, well, my boyfriend like you might think. And he's younger. A lot younger."

"How much younger?"

"Seventeen years. He's twenty three and I'm forty. It makes it hard sometimes, hard to make him understand what's happening with me because he hasn't encountered that kind of thing before. His job is moving really fast, his life is changing incredibly fast, and our relationship is sort of another thing that's out of step if you know what I mean."

"Does he understand the work you do, how demanding your schedule is?"

"Yeah." She fidgeted some more. "Look this is hard to tell you. But the fact is, my 'boyfriend', it feels funny to call him that, but my 'boyfriend' is Freddie Prinze."

"Is this where your difficulties came from, a conflict between work and a personal relationship?"

"Well yeah, but no that's not where things went wrong." She laughed bitterly. "God no. He has been nothing but understanding, supportive, gentle. We were close friends from very near the start, but have only been, ah, romantically involved for about four months. It really seemed like a natural development, even with the age difference. We were so close…" she trailed off.

"But you're not anymore. Molly, we seem to be skirting around whatever issue has brought you in here, whatever set you on a self-destructive course of drinking and not taking care of yourself. You seem to be saying your relationship with Freddie was a good one, but it's over now. You enjoyed your work and were good at it, but something happened to make you endanger it. I think the catalyst is something you're aware of, but not telling me. You seem to be going over a series of symptoms. Tell me what caused the 'illness'."

She stared at her hands, out the window, and at the floor. Finally she said in barely a whisper, "My best friend, Wendy Maginty, my best friend in the world. For twenty two years we were sisters by choice, held each other up and celebrated each other, were there through every good and bad time. She got hit by a drunk about six weeks ago, she died a couple days later. I guess I'm not dealing very well with it. I say I can do it myself, and every time Freddie has put his hand out I've alternated between grabbing on like a bear trap and biting it off. I said hateful ugly things to him because he went to Jimmy, but I know and Jimmy told me it's because Freddie is young and only has so many resources to deal with this. God I said such things to him… but he came to me after I got suspended, I got stinking drunk but he stayed with me and tried so hard to get me through it, and when Jimmy wouldn't take me back and things wouldn't go my way right away I treated him like shit, and told him to get lost, and still he told me he loves me, and still he said he wouldn't walk out of my life. He said he'd be there always no matter what. So I made it my little project to make him a liar. He said when I finally shatter he'll be there with the dustpan, that he refuses to be my excuse."

"Excuse for what, do you think?"

"For ruining myself. Like I blame Jimmy for suspending me, like I blame anyone for not understanding. Like I blame Wendy."

"For what?"

"For _leaving_ me, goddammit. Isn't that sick? Do you know what I said to her, seeing her lying there on a slab in the morgue, do you know what I said? Not 'I love you', not 'I'll miss you'. I called her a bitch, I said look what you've done to me. To _me_. Like she'd fucked me over or something, just when my life was getting together after leaving Reggie, all that she'd done for me to help me out of that, just when we were getting to living our lives, and she _left_ me."

"Who is Reggie?"

Feeling she already had started something, Molly figured she had to finish. So she told Carol about Reggie, about the fight at the club, everything about Freddie's struggle to help her in spite of everything she dished out on him.

Caroline observed, "It sounds like he must love you a great deal to try so hard, to absorb so much hurt trying to help you."

"He does. I know he does. And I love him, I do, I just can't seem to stop wanting him to fix everything, to make me feel better."

"That takes the weight off of you, if someone else can do it."

"I guess so."

"It sounds like you have several things to work on here. Certainly your abusive relationship with Reggie must have affected the way you relate to people, especially if it went on for five years. Your difficulty in dealing with Wendy's death is another issue, and following upon that is your struggle with your relationship with Freddie."

"It's weird, with Freddie it's weird, because it's all between us. There's nothing in the daylight, there can't be."

"There must be a number of reasons for that. A primary relationship that can't exist outside its own world has a very different dynamic than one that exists among other relationships. It works differently, has different expectations and strains."

"I feel like some kind of abuser, the way I treated Freddie, the way I drag him through hell with me. It's like I used his caring against him. He never thought he could back away from me and I've made it a matter of his survival. It hurts him so bad, more than the things I say or do, that he is learning he's capable of breaking his promises to me."

"Do you think he is? Is that what you've been trying to prove to him, that he can abandon you like Wendy did?"

She jumped. "Why would I do that? That's crazy. Why would I do that? Wendy died, Freddie is alive."

"But as you said, if you throw him away then nothing can take him away. Control. I think that's a good place to start. You had no control over your life with Reggie until your friends helped you leave. You had no control over Wendy's death. You seem to have abdicated control of yourself, your health, your drinking. You can't control the fact that your boss has suspended you. You already have a degree of control over Freddie's professional life, but that's been taken from you for the time being. It may be that you see your personal connection with him as the last avenue of control you have. Pulling him in, driving him away, using his caring against him, as you said. Does this sound reasonable?"

"It sounds sick, is what it sounds. Can I really be that messed up?"

"You can really be that confused in your thinking. A traumatic loss has a way of catalyzing all sorts of other issues, kicking them into overdrive so to speak. But I think the issue of control, or lack of it, is a good place to start. Do you agree?"

Molly was a little shaken up. "Well yeah, I guess so. How should we do this?"

"How do you feel about twice a week to start?"

"Okay. The studio will pay for it, Jimmy said so."

"Do you think you can contract with me not to drink before our next session?"

"I think so. Yeah. It's not like I have a long history of addiction or anything. That's the one thing I never had."

"And if you can't sleep?"

"I'll deal with it. I'm sick of being sick in the morning anyway."

She made another appointment with the secretary and went home with too many thoughts swirling in her head. She wanted to call Freddie, worse than bad, but forced herself not to. She watched Chico that night, and cried from the pain of seeing him on that lit up screen and being unable to touch him.

* * *

The next day, she knew, Freddie had a script meeting at the studio. She called his home number and talked to his machine. "Hi Freddie. I went to see Carol. You were right, she is a pretty good match for me. I'm gonna see her twice a week. I miss you. I'm sober, can you tell? Of course. You can always tell how I am." She took in a sharp breath. "I love you. Is it too late for that?"

That night the phone rang, after nine o'clock. She knew it had to be Freddie, but wasn't ready to talk to him. The machine kicked on.

" _Hi Besita. I'm glad you're going to see Carol, and that you're not drinking. Are you eating? Are you sleeping? I still worry about you. I know you're there, but that's okay. I love you. And don't talk crazy, it'll never be too late."_

For the next five days they exchanged phone messages. Molly saw Carol again and they got to work on some serious business. Somehow Freddie and Molly knew when to miss each other, so they never had to speak directly. It felt easier that way. Every message ended the same way: I love you.

* * *

The day came for Molly to meet with Jimmy. She brought a letter from Carol, though she'd been sarcastic when she first suggested it she wanted him to know she was going to the therapist. Jimmy asked his secretary to hold calls. When he'd closed the office door, he gave Molly a hug, then stepped back.

"You still look like shit, but better than the last time we met." He sat down at his desk. "I'll bet you hate my guts."

"I did." she admitted. "Oh yeah, I did. I was looking for a lawyer to get out of my contract, but I wasn't sober often enough to follow up. It was a short habit, Jimmy, I swear."

He smiled a little grimly. "You never could hold your liquor. A blessing in disguise, I guess. So what else?"

She handed him Carol's letter. "From my therapist. Just to let you know I'm going twice a week yadda yadda. I'm almost sleeping through the night, with a few breaks. I've gained five pounds." It was her turn to smile. "But you'll forgive me if I don't go overboard with the weight thing."

"I don't suppose I need to tell you," Jimmy told her, "but Freddie is on the south side of hell. Good thing we've been on hiatus, he's been mostly useless in script meetings and I don't wanna think about what he'd be on the set. We start taping again next week, I hope to Christ he gets a grip by then. His temporary assistant is barely treading water."

"When can I come back to work, Jimmy?"

"Not to be a smartass, but I'd say that's up to Freddie at this point. I'll say yeah, if you feel you're ready. But it's him you work with. It's him who has to tell you yes or no."

She nodded. "Yeah. That could be sticky. But we'll figure it out. Business comes first."

"Okay. I'm glad to see you're getting better. I don't mind telling you that you were making me more than a little nervous, Molly."

This time she hugged him, tight, as he saw her to the door. "I'm sorry, boss. For so much."

"Just get back on track, and we'll all be happy."

* * *

She made her way to Freddie's dressing room. The requisite number of girls were hanging around outside. She hesitated before she knocked. It had been a week and a half since she'd seen him, and then she'd been filthy drunk. She knew she looked haggard, a little dull. He'd seen her worse, for sure. She knocked with more strength than she felt. Jack answered the door, and drew back in surprise.

"Honey!" he exclaimed and caught her in a monstrous hug and kiss. "Welcome back. We missed you." Over his shoulder she saw Freddie rising from his chair.

"Yeah. We did." Freddie looked like he had a million emotions rushing him at once. Jack excused himself quickly, and Molly smiled as she heard him announce to the girls, "Patience ladies, patience, there's enough of me to go around."

Freddie stood motionless. He was wearing his usual tight jeans, and a blue cashmere pullover that set off his beautiful olive skin and black hair. He looked so good she wanted to cry.

"Hey Freddie."

She felt unspeakably awkward, able only to think of the despicable things she'd said to him the last time she saw him when she was sober enough to speak. She couldn't think of another thing to say.

He made it easy for her. He stepped up to her, pulled her into his arms and lifted her clear off the floor as she reached around his neck. "Holy shit you feel good," he whispered to her, "Molly I've missed you so much." She looked up into the sweet brown eyes and nothing else mattered. "Well what are you waiting for?" he asked her with a teasing smile, then in a whisper, " _Kiss_ me, pretty," and she did. He pulled her off of her feet again, all soft mouth and warm mustache and velvet tongue.

When finally he released her and stepped back to take a better look she asked him in embarrassment, "How can you stand to look at me, after the things I said. How can you stand to touch me?"

He smiled a little wearily. "Bonita, you don't stop loving somebody because they give you a hard time."

She felt guilty for the years she'd put on his voice. "A 'hard time'? It makes me sick to remember."

"Then don't." He seemed to realize how absurd that was. "Well try not to obsess over it anyway. You were messed up. You weren't yourself, at least not the Molly I know and I've known you for three years. You couldn't have faked it for that long, could you?" He was running his hands through her hair behind her head and over her shoulders, over and over. "I miss you _so_ much," he told her again, and pulled her close against him. His sweater was soft against her cheek; she could hear his heartbeat as she tightened her arms around his waist.

"Me too, I miss you so much. I miss talking, and listening, the way you make me laugh. I miss your beautiful smile." He felt so good, solid and warm. Her hands slid down to his ass and his hips jerked forward against her.

"Don't start something here," he warned her.

She stepped back. "Oops. Sorry. Carried away." after a minute she flung herself into his arms again. "Hugs are always allowed," she reminded him, and buried her face in his neck as he bent to surround her.

"Mmm, Molly, I missed that, you feel so good."

"Do you think you can come by tonight? I promise I'll be good. I promise I won't be a bitch."

He stepped back with the melting, sly smile. "Well let's not expect everything at once, huh?"

She smacked his arm. "Ooh right back to normal. Hit me again, I love it."

She stared at him for a minute. "We better get outta here, Carlito, or I'm gonna jump you right here and now."

He glided by her to the door.

"Promises, promises," he purred.


End file.
